Daddy's Little Girl
by Nan Smith
Summary: Marta Kent is the only girl in her family, and she's noticed that her father and older brother are always disappearing, without taking her along. Is it because she's just a girl? The answer isn't what she expected. Part of the Dagger Series.


Daddy's Little Girl   
  
By Nan Smith hachiban@earthlink.net   
  
Rated: PG  
  
This story is part of the "Dagger" series and follows   
  
Christmas in Metropolis. The last three stories centered   
  
around CJ Kent, but, as someone said to me, we have to give   
  
the women equal time, so I hereby present the story of   
  
Marta Kent...   
  
Disclaimer: The familiar characters and settings in this   
  
story are not mine. They are the property of DC Comics,   
  
Warner Bros., December 3rd Productions and whoever else can   
  
legally claim them, nor am I profiting by their use. Any   
  
new characters, settings and the story itself belong to me.   
  
**********   
  
Marta Kent stomped up the stairs of the Kent home, marched   
  
into her room and slammed the door behind her. Dad had   
  
gone off with CJ *again* and refused to let her come along.   
  
Worse than that, they had been gone for almost two hours!   
  
The last time Wyatt had gone with them, and when she'd   
  
asked Wyatt where they had been, he'd just shrugged. "Out,"   
  
he'd said.   
  
"Well, what did you do?" she'd insisted.   
  
Another shrug. "Nothin'."   
  
Boys! They gave you about as much information as Mom's   
  
stupid tropical fish! CJ had just grunted and gone off to   
  
play the latest online game on the family computer and,   
  
when she'd looked, Dad wasn't anywhere around. They'd   
  
started disappearing at odd times a while back but she   
  
didn't exactly know when. She'd just sort of started to   
  
notice that sometimes she couldn't find either CJ or Dad,   
  
and Mom didn't seem to know where they had gone.   
  
Of course, right now, Mom had all she could do just to get   
  
up the stairs. She'd gone on maternity leave from her job   
  
last week and spent most of the day sitting around with her   
  
feet up and working on the new computer that Dad had   
  
insisted that they get. Of course, that wasn't surprising   
  
since she was supposed to have triplets in about three   
  
months. Marta didn't see how she was going to last the   
  
whole nine months. She looked almost like she had just   
  
before Jimmy had been born, now. Marta had overheard Mom   
  
griping last night after she had gone to bed about losing   
  
her figure and Dad had been getting smoochy. Marta had   
  
plugged up her ears but she wondered if she ought to   
  
mention that the walls in this place were too thin. It   
  
seemed these days as if she could hear everything anyone   
  
said in the house.   
  
Downstairs, she heard the phone ring, even through the   
  
closed door, and she heard her mother's slow footsteps   
  
across the living room to answer. She picked it up on the   
  
fourth ring.   
  
"Hello?"   
  
"May I speak to Lois Lane Kent, please?" a cheerful, female   
  
voice inquired. Mom must have turned on the speakerphone,   
  
Marta surmised.   
  
"This is Lois Kent," her mother's voice said.   
  
"Congratulations, Ms. Kent! You have won an all-expenses   
  
paid vacation to Las Vegas! All you need to do to claim   
  
your prize is to attend a short presentation on   
  
Pleasanthill Resorts, held at the local -- "   
  
There was a click. Mom had hung up on the solicitor, Marta   
  
thought. Mom had the right idea. Dad was too nice; he'd   
  
listen to what the callers had to say and then politely   
  
turn them down. Mom didn't waste the time.   
  
She glanced around her room at the new desk and chair she'd   
  
gotten, along with a lot of other things, for her birthday,   
  
last week. Her school books were piled on its surface and   
  
her karate gi lay on the foot of her bed. She'd just been   
  
promoted again, the day after her tenth birthday. Sensei   
  
Bob said that she had a real talent for it.   
  
Marta walked to the window and stood staring out at the   
  
sunny, afternoon sky. She'd let herself get distracted   
  
from the cause of her annoyance. Dad and CJ had gone off   
  
without her, again! It just wasn't *fair*!   
  
From somewhere above her, a piercing screech nearly lifted   
  
the hair on her head before she recognized Jonny's voice.   
  
"That's *my* ding dong!"   
  
That figured, she thought. It seemed like Jimmy had   
  
developed this incredible appetite lately, and nobody's   
  
snacks were safe if they laid them down for a minute. He'd   
  
even gone after the brownies she and Dad had made for the   
  
school bake sale, yesterday. He hadn't liked it a bit when   
  
Marta took them away and yelled at him for eating five of   
  
the brownies. Listening to the riot that was currently   
  
going on in the playroom upstairs, she sighed and marched   
  
out of the bedroom. T he last thing Mom needed was to have   
  
to climb the stairs to break *that* up!   
  
When she arrived in the attic she flung open the door to   
  
the playroom and stopped, appalled. Jimmy was screaming,   
  
face and hands smeared with crumbs, icing and tears. Jonny   
  
held a smashed mess that had been the ding dong and was   
  
cramming the remainder of the cake into his mouth.   
  
"What's going on here?" she demanded. "I'm gonna tell Dad   
  
if you two can't behave!"   
  
"Jimmy stole my ding dong," Jonny mumbled around the   
  
mouthful of his snack.   
  
"Didn't! It was *my* ding dong!" Jimmy wailed. "I   
  
*found* it!"   
  
"Yeah, he found it on *my* shelf!" Jonny yelled back.   
  
"I'm gonna tell Mommy!"   
  
"Jonny, shut up!" Marta commanded. "Dad told you Mom   
  
wasn't supposed to climb the stairs until he's here! Do   
  
you want her to get sick? And Dad told you to ask before   
  
you ate snacks, Jimmy!"   
  
"You're not the boss of us!" Jimmy announced, angrily.   
  
"*I'm* gonna tell Mommy!"   
  
"You don't bother Mom!" Marta said. "She's supposed to   
  
rest or she'll have the babies too soon! You know what Dad   
  
said!"   
  
Somewhere, not far away, she heard a "swoosh" similar to   
  
the one she had heard a few times when Superman had given   
  
them lifts to Grandma and Granddad Kent's farm.   
  
"*What* is going on here?" their father's voice demanded.   
  
Marta turned around in surprise.   
  
"Daddy?"   
  
Her father folded his arms and looked sternly at the two   
  
boys. "Well?"   
  
"Jonny took my ding dong!" Jimmy announced, glaring at his   
  
brother. "I found it!"   
  
"It was *my* ding dong!" Jonny retorted. "He took it off   
  
my shelf!"   
  
"Where did you find it, Jimmy?" Clark asked.   
  
"Um ... " The four-year-old looked suddenly uncomfortable.   
  
"What did Mommy tell you about taking things off your   
  
brothers' and sister's shelves?"   
  
Jimmy's lip quivered. Clark turned his gaze to Jonny.   
  
"What did I tell you about grabbing things out of your   
  
brother's hands?"   
  
"But, it was mine!"   
  
"You still don't grab. You should have told your mother.   
  
We can always get another ding dong."   
  
Jonny's lip began to quiver as well. Their father looked   
  
stern. "There will be no dessert tonight for either one of   
  
you. And no video games for the rest of the day. Both of   
  
you, go down to your room and stay there until dinner   
  
time."   
  
When Dad spoke like that, her brothers knew better than to   
  
argue, Marta thought. She watched in silence as they filed   
  
past her toward the stairs, hanging their heads.   
  
Her father turned to her, and his expression had relaxed.   
  
"Thanks for trying to help, Marta."   
  
She shrugged. "'S'okay." The reason for her previous   
  
annoyance returned and she scowled. "I figured I'd better   
  
stop the fight since nobody was here but Mom."   
  
He frowned slightly. "What's the matter, honey?"   
  
"Nothing."   
  
"Marta ... " He paused. "You're still upset that CJ and I   
  
didn't take you along, aren't you?"   
  
She looked at her shoes.   
  
"Honey, come on downstairs. I think your Mom and I need to   
  
talk to you about something."   
  
She scuffed her foot on the worn rug of the playroom. "I   
  
don't want to come if you don't want me." She felt the   
  
tears start to gather in her eyes and resolutely blinked   
  
them away. "I wish I was a boy!"   
  
Her father looked appalled. "That isn't it at all, Marta.   
  
Your mom and I love you very much, and we don't want you to   
  
be a boy! It was just -- well, it was something that we   
  
didn't think you were quite ready for. But --" He broke   
  
off. "I think it's about time you found out. You're going   
  
to within a few months, anyway."   
  
"Found out what?" she asked.   
  
"Why CJ and I have gone off alone so much. Come on."   
  
Her curiosity aroused, Marta followed her father down the   
  
steps. On the second floor, she noticed that the door to   
  
the boys' room was closed and she could hear the beep of a   
  
hand-held video game.   
  
"Somebody's playing on the Game Boy," she said. "It's sure   
  
turned up loud."   
  
Her dad cast her an odd glance and knocked on the door.   
  
The beeping ceased.   
  
He opened the door. Jonny was reading an adventure book   
  
and Jimmy was sitting on the bed, apparently staring at the   
  
wall. "I thought I told you two no video games today,"   
  
their father said. Unerringly, he strode to the head of   
  
Jimmy's bed and reached beneath the pillow. "Since I can't   
  
rely on you to follow my orders, I guess I'll have to keep   
  
this for you until day after tomorrow."   
  
Jimmy's mouth opened wide in protest . "You just said   
  
today!"   
  
"That was before you disobeyed me." Clark switched off the   
  
game, tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans and   
  
glanced at Jonny. "A word to the wise, son."   
  
"I told him not to," Jonny said, a little smugly. "*My*   
  
Game Boy is in my dresser."   
  
Jonny was old enough to know that when he broke the rules,   
  
their dad would always know, Marta thought. Jimmy still   
  
thought he could get away with things. It had always been   
  
like that, though. Her best friend, Maria, often stretched   
  
the rules at her house and her mom and dad rarely seemed to   
  
catch on, but the only time Marta and her brothers ever got   
  
away with anything was when Dad and Mom weren't around --   
  
and not always then. They knew when you were fibbing, too,   
  
and Dad always seemed to know when you were doing something   
  
you shouldn't. She'd figured for years that it was because   
  
they were the best reporters in Metropolis and were used to   
  
"stripping away the walls of secrecy and revealing the   
  
naked truth," as her mom was fond of saying. Marta thought   
  
that would be pretty cool, and had just about decided that   
  
when she grew up she was going to be a reporter, too.   
  
Her father closed the door and glanced at her. "How did   
  
you know Jimmy was playing a video game?"   
  
She shrugged. "I heard it. The walls are pretty thin in   
  
this place."   
  
"What do you mean?"   
  
"I can always hear what's going on around here," she said.   
  
"I guess my ears are pretty good, though."   
  
Clark's eyebrows rose slightly. "It sounds like I'm just   
  
in time," he said. "Come on; let's go talk to your   
  
mother."   
  
What did he mean by that? she wondered. Dad was being weird   
  
today.   
  
"Where's CJ?" she asked. "Didn't he come home with you?"   
  
"I dropped him off at Wyatt's," he said. "They're doing   
  
some kind of project for the science fair next week."   
  
"Oh." She followed him toward the stairs. Her mother was   
  
sitting on the couch with her feet up as usual and the   
  
computer parked in front of her on the coffee table. She   
  
glanced up as the two of them descended the stairs. "What   
  
was going on up there?"   
  
"Jimmy 'found' one of Jonny's ding dongs and Jonny resented   
  
it," Clark said. "They're in their room until dinner."   
  
"I'll be glad when Jimmy gets out of this stage," Lois   
  
said. "I can't say the 'Fearsome Fours' is one of my   
  
favorite stages in child development."   
  
Clark laughed. "At least this time we knew what to expect.   
  
Right now, though, we need to talk to Marta."   
  
"Oh?" Her mother's eyebrows rose.   
  
"Yeah. I think we need to give her 'the talk'. We almost   
  
put it off too long. It seems she thinks the walls are too   
  
thin in our house."   
  
"Well, I can sure hear everything," Marta felt obliged to   
  
point out.   
  
"We knew it was coming," Clark said. "She's only eleven   
  
months younger than CJ."   
  
"I see." Lois began to hoist herself clumsily from the   
  
sofa and Clark hurried forward to give her a hand. "I   
  
guess it had to happen. Maybe we'd better find some place   
  
where we can't be overheard."   
  
By the time Clark had helped Lois up the stairs and into   
  
the master bedroom, Marta, trailing in their wake, was a   
  
seething ball of curiosity. Her mother and father were   
  
acting stranger than she'd ever seen them act.   
  
Lois settled down on the bed, braced up by half a dozen   
  
pillows and Marta watched Clark close the door and lock it.   
  
"Have a seat, Marta," he said, waving at the chair for   
  
Lois's dressing table. "This is going to take some   
  
explaining. It's why CJ and I have been going off alone   
  
for the last few months. I guess, after this, you'll be   
  
going, too."   
  
"I thought it was because you didn't want a girl along,"   
  
she said, slowly.   
  
Her mother shook her head. "Absolutely not, sweetie. I   
  
wish you'd told us how you felt. It's a completely   
  
different reason."   
  
Clark was nodding. "It has absolutely nothing to do with   
  
you being a girl, Marta. It had everything to do with your   
  
age. Part of it was that we needed for you to be as old as   
  
possible before telling you. This has to be kept a secret.   
  
You can't even tell Maria about it. It's important."   
  
Lois was nodding. "This is a dangerous secret, honey.   
  
Only a very few people know about it. Even your Grandmother   
  
and Grandfather Lane don't."   
  
"But CJ does?" she asked.   
  
"We had to tell him last November, just as we're telling   
  
you now. It wouldn't be safe for you not to know." Her   
  
father went to sit on the foot of the bed, removing his   
  
glasses as he did so. "Look at me, Marta. Who do I look   
  
like?"   
  
Marta opened her mouth to answer and closed it again. She   
  
leaned forward, examining his face closely. A little   
  
tingle, half of excitement, half of fear, began to run up   
  
and down her backbone. "You kind of look like Superman."   
  
Leaning back against the bed pillows, her mother gave a   
  
soft laugh. "Got it in one try," she said.   
  
"You're absolutely right," her father said. "I not only   
  
look like Superman; I *am* Superman."   
  
Marta shook her head, trying to take in what she was   
  
hearing. Her father was *Superman*? "You're Superman?"   
  
He nodded soberly. "I'm Superman, Marta. And you're my   
  
daughter."   
  
She said the first thing that came into her head.   
  
"*That's* why I can hear so well!"   
  
Clark looked at Lois and Marta thought he was trying not to   
  
grin. "She's your daughter through and through, honey."   
  
"But how about CJ?" Marta asked at once. "He's adopted!"   
  
"CJ is adopted," he agreed, "but he's still a relative of   
  
mine. We told the truth about him -- we just didn't tell   
  
*all* the truth. CJ's a Kryptonian with super powers, just   
  
like me. His started coming in last year. He's been   
  
learning to use them -- and that's why he and I have been   
  
going off without anyone else. He needed to learn how to   
  
use his super powers so he wouldn't hurt anyone."   
  
"Except Wyatt! He knows?" For a moment, she was outraged.   
  
"He knows. Do you remember how CJ and Wyatt helped catch   
  
those crazy government agents just before Christmas? CJ   
  
had to tell Wyatt a little about himself, to explain why he   
  
couldn't go near the Kryptonite, Marta. We swore him to   
  
secrecy -- and he doesn't know about me or the rest of you   
  
kids, so you mustn't tell him about yourself. The less   
  
that people outside the family know about us, the better.   
  
He'll have to be told eventually, of course, but not for   
  
some time. If he were to slip and tell someone about who   
  
Superman really is, all of you could become the targets of   
  
anyone who wanted to hurt me."   
  
Put that way, it didn't seem so bad. "Wyatt wouldn't tell   
  
anyone about us!" she stated with certainty. "He's the   
  
smartest boy in the school -- except maybe for CJ," she   
  
added reluctantly. It went against the grain to admit   
  
something like that about your own brother, but as long as   
  
he didn't hear her say it, it was probably okay.   
  
"In any case, Marta, my powers and CJ's powers both started   
  
to come in around the age of ten and if your hearing is any   
  
indication, it's starting to happen to you, too." Her   
  
father stood up, laying his glasses on the bedside table,   
  
and took a couple of steps away from the bed. Without   
  
warning, he became a spinning blur. The black of his jeans   
  
and the white of his t-shirt were replaced by blue and red   
  
and when the spinning stopped, Superman stood there in his   
  
familiar costume.   
  
Marta shut her mouth only by force of habit. "Oh, wow!"   
  
she breathed. "That is way cool!"   
  
Superman stepped toward her, holding out a hand. "Would   
  
you like to go for a short flight?"   
  
Eagerly, she nodded. She had flown with Superman a number   
  
of times before, not knowing that he was her dad, but the   
  
flights had never been long enough to suit her.   
  
"Don't be gone long," Lois said.   
  
"We won't," Superman said. "We'll be back in time for me   
  
to fix dinner."   
  
"In that case," Lois said, "I'll just wait for you right   
  
here."   
  
**********   
  
Marta watched as Superman opened the window and glanced   
  
quickly around. "I don't see anyone." He slipped an arm   
  
around her waist. "We're going to go out fast so no one   
  
gets a look at us, okay?"   
  
Marta nodded. Unexpectedly, her mouth felt dry. It was   
  
one thing to fly with Superman when she thought he was this   
  
all-powerful alien, another to fly with him when she knew   
  
he was her father.   
  
He glanced at her. "Why are you nervous, honey?"   
  
"How do you *do* that?" she asked, suddenly. "You always   
  
know when one of us is scared or mad -- you even know when   
  
one of us is fibbing!"   
  
He smiled. "I can hear your heartbeat speed up, and   
  
different emotions produce different scents. Most people   
  
can't detect those things, but I can. You'll be able to do   
  
it, too -- when your powers develop a little more."   
  
"Oh." Suddenly, the nervousness she had been feeling   
  
disappeared. Superman might be just her father, but he was   
  
still Superman.   
  
"Here we go," he said.   
  
There was a rush of air and the scene around her blurred   
  
for an instant. When things steadied down again, Marta   
  
realized that she was face down and staring at the city,   
  
far below. Superman's arm clamped her tightly against his   
  
side. It was the first time she had flown like this. All   
  
the other times, he had carried her in his arms. The view   
  
was awesome.   
  
"Do you like it?" he asked.   
  
She opened her mouth, but only one word came to mind.   
  
"Wow!"   
  
"This is the way I see the world when I fly. I thought I'd   
  
give you a taste of what you're going to be doing in a few   
  
years."   
  
She took a deep breath. "Really?"   
  
"Uh huh. I asked Dr. Klein about it. It seems that half-  
  
Kryptonians should get all the super powers."   
  
"Dr. Klein knows?" she asked.   
  
"Sure. He's been my doctor for years. He's the only expert   
  
on Kryptonians on the planet and it looks like we're going   
  
to need him more than ever."   
  
"You mean for CJ and the rest of us kids?"   
  
"Well, for you, too. But there's more. There are other   
  
half-Kryptonians around, Marta. Do you remember your   
  
history about the New Kryptonian invasion nearly twelve   
  
years ago?"   
  
"Sure. Is CJ from New Krypton?"   
  
"No. But after the New Kryptonians left, -- well, some   
  
half- Kryptonian children were born. I know that's hard to   
  
understand, but --"   
  
Marta processed that. The origin of babies was no mystery   
  
to her, having recently completed "Family Life" in her   
  
fourth grade class. "Oh, Daddy, I know all about that   
  
stuff," she assured him. "I guess some of the New   
  
Kryptonians had sex with Earth women, huh?"   
  
Superman was silent for a long moment. "Um ... yeah." At   
  
the tone of his voice, she turned her head to look up at   
  
him. Was it her imagination, or was her dad blushing?   
  
"So, have you found any of them?"   
  
He cleared his throat a couple of times. "Yes, I have. A   
  
few. And I'm looking for more, with the help of some   
  
friends. It's important for us to find them and teach them   
  
how to use their powers before they accidentally hurt   
  
someone."   
  
"Are you teaching them?"   
  
He nodded. "A couple of them. I'm watching the others."   
  
Marta nodded. "I get it. When am I going to be able to   
  
fly by myself?"   
  
"Well, I didn't fly until I was eighteen, but it might have   
  
been because I didn't know I could. CJ can't fly, yet, but   
  
when I throw him into the air, he can control his rate of   
  
descent, so it probably won't be long before he can keep   
  
himself in the air. Actually flying, though, is something   
  
we're going to have to find out about."   
  
"But how come you don't know?" Marta asked. "The New   
  
Kryptonians had super powers. You fought that nasty Lord   
  
Nor!"   
  
"Yes, but they only had the powers on Earth," her father   
  
said. "They didn't have them on New Krypton -- or old   
  
Krypton, either. I was the first Kryptonian it ever   
  
happened to, so nobody knows exactly how it works."   
  
"Oh." Marta digested that. "Where did CJ come from if he   
  
didn't come from New Krypton?"   
  
"That's a long, complicated story," Superman said. "Would   
  
you like to go anyplace in particular?"   
  
Marta allowed herself to be distracted for the moment,   
  
promising herself that she would come back to the subject   
  
later. "Anywhere?"   
  
"Sure."   
  
"Could we go see Grandma and Grandpa Kent?"   
  
"No problem." They shifted direction, gaining altitude   
  
until the fluffy, white clouds that she had seen from the   
  
ground were floating below them. "I think they'd like to   
  
see you, too."   
  
**********   
  
"So then, " Marta said, "Grandma Kent told me all about how   
  
they found Daddy."   
  
Lois smiled at her animated daughter. Marta had been   
  
chattering about her trip to the Kents with Superman ever   
  
since she and Clark had returned. It was a complete   
  
turnaround from her mood earlier in the day. She and Clark   
  
should have realized, she thought, that Marta might have   
  
interpreted Clark's disappearances with CJ as an attempt to   
  
exclude her because of her gender. Seizing the opportunity   
  
when Marta paused to take a breath, she interjected a   
  
question. "What do you think of all this, Marta?"   
  
"I think it's cool," Marta said. "Someday I'm going to be   
  
able to do the things that Superman does. I'll be able to   
  
*fly*! And this Saturday, Dad's going to take me with him   
  
and CJ to see if I've started to get any other powers."   
  
She broke off at the sound of Clark's voice announcing   
  
dinner, and a moment later, Jonny and Jimmy came clattering   
  
down the stairs, followed a couple of moments later by CJ,   
  
who had returned while Clark and Marta had been flying.   
  
"Remember, Marta, that you have to be very careful not to   
  
let Jonny or Jimmy know about this," Lois cautioned.   
  
"Sure, I know," Marta said. "If they found out, they'd   
  
tell all their friends."   
  
"Exactly my point."   
  
"Don't worry." Marta stood up from the footstool and   
  
reached out to give Lois a hand to her feet. The child had   
  
to brace herself slightly, but she didn't seem to be   
  
putting a lot of effort into the task. Maybe the super   
  
powers had been sneaking up on her without any of them   
  
noticing, Lois thought, exactly as they had on CJ.   
  
"You know, Mom," Marta said suddenly, as they started   
  
toward the dinner table, "I wish I'd met Dad's other   
  
parents. They must have been special, too."   
  
"I think they were," Lois said. "But, why do you think so?"   
  
"Because they knew they were going to die, but they saved   
  
Dad. They sent him to Grandma and Grandpa Kent."   
  
Now there was a profound thought from a ten-year-old. "I   
  
think they did it because they loved him," Lois said.   
  
"I'm glad they did it," Marta said.   
  
"So am I." Lois put a hand on her daughter's shoulder.   
  
"If they hadn't, I wouldn't have you or your brothers."   
  
Marta squirmed, slightly. She was at an age when any kind   
  
of sentiment expressed by her parents made her   
  
uncomfortable. "I'm hungry!" she announced, quickly.   
  
"What's for dinner, Dad?"   
  
"Macaroni and cheese with ham, steamed vegetables and corn   
  
bread," Clark told her. "And angel cake for dessert."   
  
That drew groans from the two younger boys, who were   
  
destined to miss their dessert, but neither of them   
  
protested. Clark didn't impose penalties often, but when   
  
he did, they had learned that he meant business. Lois   
  
settled down into her chair and let him handle the dinner   
  
and the kids. It seemed these days as if she didn't have   
  
the energy to do more than walk slowly around the house and   
  
otherwise spend most of her days in a chair with her feet   
  
up. Dr. Klein told her that it was the effect of the three   
  
growing babies and that after they were born, her energy   
  
would gradually return, but that was still some time away.   
  
He'd also told her to stay off her feet as much as possible   
  
and to rest whenever she could, to try to prevent early   
  
labor. Premature labor was always a possibility with   
  
multiple births and it happened more often with triplets   
  
than twins -- a statistic that made sense to Lois,   
  
considering that she felt as big as a house now, and there   
  
was, at least theoretically, still another three months to   
  
go.   
  
Clark, of course, treated her like royalty. He waited on   
  
her hand and foot, worried whenever she even climbed the   
  
stairs more than once a day and had practically gone into a   
  
panic the afternoon she decided that she wanted to make   
  
corn fritters. Why she had suddenly decided she wanted corn   
  
fritters she now had no clue, but at the time it seemed   
  
like a good idea. Fortunately, Superman arrived in time to   
  
put out the fire while it was still confined to the deep   
  
fryer, and a little paint had taken care of the smoke   
  
stains on the ceiling. It had caused him to hover over her   
  
more than ever for at least a week and when he'd found out   
  
what she wanted, he'd ended up flying to New Orleans to   
  
acquire the genuine article. Honestly! It had only been a   
  
little fire, and deep fryers weren't all that expensive,   
  
anyway!   
  
"Salad, honey?" Clark's voice caught her attention and she   
  
nodded. He presented her with a bowl of shredded lettuce   
  
and cut vegetables with the cruet of salad dressing on the   
  
side and while she was coping with that, poured her a glass   
  
of milk. She suspected that Dr. Klein had told him to   
  
watch her nutrition carefully, which was pretty easy since   
  
he generally cooked all the meals. Fortunately, since she   
  
had been known to burn water, her husband was an excellent   
  
cook.   
  
"Is there anything else you'd like?" he asked.   
  
"I'm fine, Clark. Sit down and eat your dinner," she   
  
commanded.   
  
He obeyed, settling into the chair at the head of the   
  
table. Marta, sitting across from CJ, was busy stuffing in   
  
the macaroni and side dishes as fast as she could. When   
  
had their daughter developed such an enormous appetite? It   
  
was probably fortunate for Marta that she had a Kryptonian   
  
metabolism, or she might have had weight problems later,   
  
Lois thought, enviously. On the other hand, the appetite   
  
was probably because she needed the fuel for her developing   
  
super powers. Marta, like her father, was undoubtedly   
  
going to have a svelte figure all of her life, without the   
  
slightest need to work at keeping it. Lois glanced down at   
  
her rounded belly and sighed. Life was certainly unfair.   
  
CJ was inhaling his dinner in a similar fashion. Clark met   
  
her eyes and smiled slightly. "Hey, kids, it's not going   
  
to run away. Slow down a bit."   
  
Marta paused, her fork halfway to her mouth, and Lois could   
  
see her consciously shift gears. The fork resumed its   
  
journey but at a more modest pace.   
  
They ate in silence for several minutes. Jonny and Jimmy   
  
seemed to be trying to be on their best behavior and not   
  
even a minor argument between the two disturbed the meal.   
  
"Can I have more?" CJ requested and Lois saw that their   
  
(nearly) eleven-year-old son had cleaned his plate.   
  
"'May I'," Lois corrected.   
  
"May I," CJ obediently rephrased. "I'm starved, tonight."   
  
"Probably all that exercise this afternoon," Clark said,   
  
passing him the macaroni. "More cornbread?"   
  
"I'll have some more cornbread," Marta piped up. "I'm   
  
really hungry tonight, too."   
  
"I guess it's hereditary," Clark said. "Mom tells me I had   
  
quite an appetite at their age."   
  
"You still do," Lois pointed out.   
  
"Well -- it's probably all that working out," Clark said.   
  
"More salad?"   
  
Lois shook her head. "I don't have the room. Maybe I can   
  
get a snack later, before we go to bed."   
  
"I'll set something aside for you," Clark promised. "Did   
  
you save some room for the angel cake?"   
  
"Some," Lois said, and jumped as one of the babies kicked   
  
her sharply in the ribs. "They're kind of active tonight."   
  
"As far as I can tell, they're always active," Clark said,   
  
stating the obvious. "Last night, one of them had the   
  
hiccups all night long."   
  
"How do you know, Daddy?" Jonny asked.   
  
"Because your mommy's stomach was against my back," he told   
  
him. "I could feel your baby brother or sister hiccuping   
  
all night."   
  
"Oh," Jonny said, helping himself to more macaroni. "Does   
  
he still have the hiccups?"   
  
"No," Lois said. "He stopped somewhere around five this   
  
morning."   
  
"I'm glad I don't get hiccups like that," Jimmy remarked.   
  
He slurped down his milk, drawing a warning look from his   
  
father.   
  
"Not so fast, Jimmy. You'll choke."   
  
"Sorry, Daddy." Jimmy set down the empty glass. "I'm   
  
full."   
  
Clark glanced around at the empty plates. "Is everybody   
  
done?"   
  
Nods all around answered the question. "All right, Jonny   
  
and Jimmy, you may take your plates into the kitchen, rinse   
  
them off and put them in the dishwasher. I think Galaxy   
  
One comes on in about ten minutes. You can watch that, if   
  
you want, and then bedtime. Got it?"   
  
Jimmy looked longingly toward the angel cake that Lois   
  
could see sitting on the kitchen island, but the child knew   
  
better than to ask. After the two boys had gone into the   
  
living room, Clark served the cake.   
  
Lois ate her dessert slowly, thinking. Until recently, she   
  
had been the main disciplinarian in the household.   
  
Anything but a daddy of steel, Clark had been more willing   
  
than she to let minor things slide, and much to her   
  
amusement, Marta could wrap him around her little finger   
  
with no effort at all.   
  
Things had changed, however, when he'd had to assume most   
  
of the management of the household. Once he'd seen how   
  
difficult it was becoming for Lois, and Dr. Klein had   
  
pointed out the increased risks of both miscarriage and   
  
early labor, Clark had taken over with a no-nonsense   
  
attitude that left the children in no doubt about who was   
  
boss. Nothing was going to jeopardize Lois's health or   
  
that of the triplets, if he had anything to say about it.   
  
It amazed her at first how easily he did it. He never had   
  
to raise his voice, but when he spoke in a certain tone, no   
  
one argued. He'd explained it once by pointing out that   
  
every day, Superman had to deal with much harder cases than   
  
their children would ever be and that Lois had done a good   
  
job with them from the start.   
  
"They're good kids," he'd said. "They just had to get used   
  
to daddy giving the orders instead of mommy." And he'd   
  
been surprised when she'd gone off in a gale of laughter.   
  
Marta turned to CJ. "I flew with Dad while you were gone."   
  
Her older brother took a swig of the milk that went with   
  
the cake. "Good," he said, with brotherly matter-of-  
  
factness. "I figured it was going to happen to you, pretty   
  
soon."   
  
"Aren't you surprised?" Marta asked, seeming a little   
  
surprised, herself.   
  
"Nope. Linda's only a little older than you are and she's   
  
had super-hearing and heat vision for months."   
  
"Linda? You mean your girlfriend?"   
  
If Marta had been expecting CJ to deny the allegation, she   
  
was disappointed, Lois thought. CJ didn't turn a hair.   
  
"Yep. It's okay, Dad," he added. "She already guessed   
  
Marta was like her, weeks ago. I didn't tell her. She   
  
thinks it's cool."   
  
"How did she know?" Lois asked, slightly alarmed.   
  
CJ shrugged. "I don't know. She just did. She already   
  
promised me she wouldn't tell anybody, though."   
  
"Thank heaven for small favors," Lois said. "Maybe   
  
Superman should have a talk with her."   
  
Clark nodded. "I think maybe he should." He pushed back   
  
his chair and stood up. "Okay, kids, get the table cleared   
  
and I'll be back in a minute as soon as I get your mom   
  
settled down in the living room ... "   
  
**********   
  
"Okay, Marta, concentrate on the stump." Superman sat   
  
cross-legged on thin air, his expression intent. "You're   
  
going to make it heat up."   
  
Marta glanced uncertainly at CJ, who stood to her right   
  
with Linda Lennox. Linda was a half-Kryptonian like   
  
herself, and a few minutes ago, she had seen Linda set a   
  
dry branch on fire just by staring at it. Linda pushed a   
  
lock of curly, red hair out of her eyes and nodded   
  
encouragingly at her.   
  
Marta swallowed nervously and stared at the stump. What   
  
was she supposed to do? Just think "burn"? Her eyes   
  
started to water as she stared and for an instant, doubt   
  
assailed her.   
  
There was a pale, reddish, almost invisible shimmering in   
  
the air between her and the stump and a tendril of smoke   
  
began to rise lazily from the dead wood. Her eyes   
  
smarting, she broke off and stared at the results of her   
  
efforts. CJ strode over to it and rested a finger   
  
fearlessly on the wood.   
  
"It's warm," he announced. "And there's a little burned   
  
spot here." He looked up at Marta and gave her a thumbs-up   
  
sign. "Nice work!"   
  
Marta approached the stump to see. Indeed, a small,   
  
blackened spot about the size of a dime was still   
  
smoldering slightly.   
  
"That's all?" she asked, slightly disappointed.   
  
Linda had followed her. "For a beginning, it's pretty   
  
good," she remarked. "I couldn't do much more than that   
  
when Superman started teaching me. CJ was already doing   
  
better than I was by then."   
  
"CJ is a little older than you," Superman pointed out, with   
  
a smile. "Don't worry, Marta, now that you know how,   
  
you'll progress pretty fast. Let's finish our inventory   
  
and see what else you're able to do."   
  
Half an hour later, the tests were over and Marta rubbed a   
  
sore arm where her muscles were protesting slightly.   
  
Superman ticked them off on his fingers.   
  
"Your super-hearing is the most developed, which I   
  
expected. You're stronger and faster than an ordinary ten-  
  
year-old girl, and you have traces of all the other super   
  
powers except flight -- but that's not unusual since it   
  
seems to be the slowest to appear. It looks like you're   
  
right on schedule. I wouldn't rely on your invulnerability   
  
for a while, though."   
  
"I won't," Marta said.   
  
"Now," he said, glancing at Linda, "there's one other   
  
subject that I wanted to bring up. CJ says that you   
  
figured out that Marta was like you, Linda. You remember   
  
what we talked about not long after that -- 'incident' just   
  
before Christmas?"   
  
"Yeah." Linda nodded soberly. "Those Bureau 39 creeps   
  
were crazy but they're not the only bad people around. We   
  
have to be really careful not to let anybody find out about   
  
us. I'm not going to tell anybody, Superman. If I did,   
  
everybody would figure out who you really are."   
  
Marta gulped. This was something that hadn't occurred to   
  
her.   
  
There was a short silence. "And you have?" Superman asked.   
  
"Sure, I have," Linda said, matter-of-factly. "I'll be   
  
eleven at the beginning of July but Marta's just turned   
  
ten. I mean, CJ could have been born a little early, but   
  
the only Kryptonian left on Earth after the New Kryptonians   
  
went away is you. That means you're Marta's dad and that   
  
means you have to be -- well, it just does, that's all."   
  
"Have you told anybody?" Marta asked. "Your mom, or -- "   
  
Linda shook her head, looking suddenly very mature. "I   
  
don't want my mom to know. It's not safe. If bad people   
  
found out she knew who Superman really was, somebody might   
  
hurt her to make her tell. And then if they found out,   
  
they might hurt your mom and CJ and you and your brothers.   
  
I'm not going to tell *anybody*!"   
  
Superman nodded. "Thank you, Linda. That's very   
  
sensible."   
  
CJ had moved over beside her. "Linda's smart, Dad," he   
  
said, unnecessarily. "She didn't even tell *me*."   
  
Superman looked searchingly at Linda for several seconds   
  
and finally, his expression relaxed into a smile. "I guess   
  
you can keep a secret," he said. "Okay, everybody, let's   
  
head for home."   
  
**********   
  
Linda's mother had arranged for her to stay at the Kents'   
  
for the day.   
  
Carolyn Lennox had been Carolyn Abernathy until her husband   
  
had attempted to turn her daughter over to Bureau 39 and   
  
been murdered by the rogue agency for his pains. She had   
  
resumed her maiden name some months following the event.   
  
Her job as a real estate broker made her work somewhat   
  
irregular hours and, since her acquaintance with the Kent   
  
family coincided with the loss of her husband, it had been   
  
arranged for Linda to stay with the Kents when Carolyn was   
  
working.   
  
The arrangement suited both CJ and Linda, Clark knew. The   
  
bond that formed between the two children when they met had   
  
only strengthened in the following months, and by now, both   
  
Clark and Lois had accustomed themselves to the fact that   
  
within a few years, Linda would almost certainly be their   
  
daughter-in-law. It was also one reason that Clark wasn't   
  
more concerned over the fact that Linda *knew*. The girl   
  
liked both Lois and him, and he knew beyond a doubt that   
  
she would never do anything to harm CJ.   
  
The incident, however, brought up a subject that had   
  
occurred to him a few times since the existence of other   
  
half-Kryptonians had been brought to his attention. How   
  
likely was it that the other super-children were going to   
  
discover his secret? It wasn't as if Marta and the boys   
  
could change what they were. When he had more time, he   
  
needed to have a talk with Linda and try to learn exactly   
  
how she had figured out the truth about Marta and thereby   
  
what, if anything, they could do to prevent others from   
  
doing the same. The New Kryptonians had known who he was.   
  
That might have been because of their advanced spying   
  
devices or other information that he hadn't known about,   
  
but if it was something simpler, such as hearing his faster   
  
heartbeat, he could be in trouble.   
  
As far as he could tell, Marta's heartbeat was still within   
  
human range, but that was going to change in the near   
  
future. CJ's and Linda's had already begun to do so, as   
  
had Valerie Henderson's and that of the other three, whom   
  
he had discovered in Smallville. He was going to have to   
  
think long and hard about this, and maybe have a talk with   
  
Dr. Klein as well.   
  
Superman delivered the three children to the Kent home and   
  
a few seconds later, Clark Kent was showing his press pass   
  
to the security guard at the entrance to the Ocean Vista   
  
Country Club. This was the location where the Metropolis   
  
Celebrity Golf Tournament, which was held each year to   
  
benefit the Metropolis Children's Fund, was about to begin.   
  
Today, he was working a half-day, and had volunteered to   
  
cover the event for Barney, in Sports, who had called in   
  
sick Friday with the flu. It made sense, since Superman   
  
had once again agreed to participate.   
  
The club was typical of most such establishments. Clark   
  
joined the crowd of spectators, dutifully noting for his   
  
article, the names of the various celebrities who would be   
  
engaging in the match. One was Landon Winters, the anchor   
  
for the LNN Morning Report; another was Boris Johnson, the   
  
star of the Boris Johnson Show. It took him an extra   
  
second to recognize Harold Freeman, the host of the hugely   
  
popular Metropolis Morning, which Clark had seen exactly   
  
once. He had quickly decided that he had no interest in a   
  
program dealing with cockroach cults, men with the   
  
compulsion to eat scorpions, and reincarnated construction   
  
workers who believed in running across expressway   
  
overpasses, clad only in green paint, as an exercise in   
  
spiritual freedom. Superman dealt with plenty of strange   
  
people in his daily life. He had no wish to watch them for   
  
entertainment, as well.   
  
Quickly, he listed the remaining participants and hunted   
  
around among the crowd of wealthy spectators for someone   
  
with name recognition that he could quote. The son of one   
  
of the golfers was present to watch his father play, and   
  
Clark conducted a short interview to fill out the little   
  
article and establish in the minds of several persons that   
  
he was present. Superman had to make his appearance to tee   
  
off with the other celebrities in a few minutes, although   
  
he wasn't expected to play more than three holes.   
  
His introductory notes completed, he made a quick exit and   
  
seconds later, Superman swooped down to land next to the   
  
other celebrities. A cheer went up from the spectators.   
  
"Ah, there you are, Superman. Welcome." The speaker was   
  
Aaron Pink, the short, cheerful, balding man who was   
  
president of the Metropolis Benevolent Fund that always   
  
arranged this thing. "We have a surprise for you. Our   
  
organization has new, personalized clubs for you, this   
  
year. Our members thought Metropolis's most famous citizen   
  
should have his own." He covered the microphone with his   
  
palm. "They'll be kept on display in the club over the   
  
year, Superman, and they'll be available for your use at   
  
every tournament, if that arrangement suits you."   
  
He beckoned, and the skinny teenager, who had won the   
  
yearly drawing to caddy for Superman, came forward with the   
  
golf bag containing his clubs. The bag was emblazoned with   
  
the Superman shield, and on the end of the grip of each   
  
club, he could see a tiny replica of the larger one on the   
  
bag. Somebody had a twisted sense of humor, he thought,   
  
but he nodded graciously at Aaron Pink and extended a hand   
  
to the caddy. "Pleased to meet you."   
  
The boy shook his hand and his Adam's apple bobbed   
  
nervously. "Pleased to meet *you*," Superman."   
  
Clark smiled. "Do you have a name?"   
  
The boy turned red. "Jake Wilson."   
  
"It's nice to meet you, Jake." He smiled more widely.   
  
"Come on, let's go play golf."   
  
**********   
  
As he waited his turn to tee off, the random thought popped   
  
into his mind that it was a good thing that Lois had made   
  
an effort to teach Clark Kent something about golf, years   
  
ago, or Superman would have disgraced himself the first   
  
time he set foot on a golf course. As it was, he had   
  
surprised everyone with a fairly creditable performance on   
  
that day, now fourteen years back, when he had first taken   
  
part in this yearly event. The gossip columns had been   
  
full of speculation about whether the people of his planet   
  
played the game of golf. One imaginative tabloid reporter   
  
had gone so far as to publish his exclusive interview with   
  
the space alien who had secretly learned golf from an   
  
unnamed golf pro and taught it to the natives of Krypton.   
  
It had greatly amused Martha and Jonathan Kent, and the   
  
story subsequently joined many others in his collection of   
  
tabloid articles that resided in the townhouse attic.   
  
The players had advanced to the second hole when his super-  
  
hearing picked up the high-pitched humming sound. Quickly   
  
he turned his head from side to side, pinpointing the   
  
source. It was coming from the golf ball perched neatly on   
  
Boris Johnson's tee. Zeroing in on the ball with his x-ray   
  
vision, he saw the cause at once. Inside the ball, the   
  
timer of an explosive device was counting down. Within   
  
seconds, the explosive within would detonate, killing or   
  
injuring a number of persons nearby, including, quite   
  
certainly, the golfer, himself.   
  
Johnson began his swing and Superman moved in a blur. A   
  
split instant before the club intersected the ball, he   
  
snatched it from the tee and threw it straight up. The   
  
explosion of the ball, three hundred feet in the air,   
  
brought startled screams from the crowd of onlookers and   
  
participants, alike. Without pausing, Superman scanned the   
  
other golf balls in the possession of Johnson's caddy,   
  
followed by the ones belonging to the other golfers as   
  
well. Two more explosive balls, one timed for five minutes   
  
after the first and the other, five minutes after that,   
  
were disposed of in a like manner.   
  
Superman dusted his hands and glanced around at the   
  
startled spectators, reporters and several club officials   
  
who were converging on the scene of the explosions. "I   
  
think someone should call the police," he said.   
  
By the time the police arrived, however, the reason for the   
  
exploding golf balls had been discovered. During the   
  
confusion, the country club's safe, containing the members'   
  
dues in cash, which had been collected only yesterday, had   
  
been robbed -- to the tune of two hundred and fifty   
  
thousand dollars.   
  
**********   
  
"Needless to say, the golf tournament was postponed," Clark   
  
was telling his editor, several hours later. "It will be   
  
played next month at a time still to be determined."   
  
"Yeah, I figured something like that," Perry said. "Any   
  
idea who might be behind this?"   
  
Clark shrugged. "Good question. Somebody had to have   
  
replaced those golf balls with the explosive ones, and it   
  
had to have been done at the club, so the police are   
  
checking out the employees who might have had the   
  
opportunity. Superman talked to Inspector Zymack but the   
  
m.o. doesn't fit any known criminals -- at least none that   
  
are on the loose right now. It's a good thing Superman was   
  
right there or it would have been bad."   
  
"Yeah." Perry agreed. "Well, write it up and we'll get it   
  
into the late edition."   
  
Clark nodded, but he was still frowning as he settled down   
  
to write his article. Something about the incident was   
  
familiar. Somewhere before, he had crossed paths with a   
  
criminal who endangered the lives of innocent bystanders in   
  
order to commit his crimes. Well, over the years he'd   
  
encountered several criminals who did that, but usually   
  
they didn't go to such lengths to create their distraction.   
  
Who did he know that went to that much effort to commit a   
  
simple robbery?   
  
Fifteen minutes later, he transmitted his article to Perry   
  
White and stood up. He had a trip to make. There was one   
  
criminal, serving a life term, whose m.o. exactly matched   
  
the one that he had seen at the golf course. It was high   
  
time Superman paid a visit to Stryker's Island.   
  
**********   
  
"Superman talked to the Warden," Clark was saying to Perry   
  
White, sometime later. "He also spoke with Inspector Zymack   
  
on his return. Of course, we don't know for sure, but the   
  
m.o. is his."   
  
"How in the name o' Graceland did he get out?" Perry asked.   
  
"And, why didn't the police know about it?"   
  
Clark hitched his shoulders, uncomfortably. "They didn't   
  
know until a few hours ago, and even then, it never   
  
occurred to them that he could have managed to get off the   
  
island. Nobody's ever done it, before. They were still   
  
conducting a search."   
  
"What do you mean, 'they didn't know'?" Perry asked.   
  
"Presumably, they knew where their prisoners were supposed   
  
to be."   
  
"Griffin was hospitalized in the prison infirmary last   
  
night with severe stomach pains," he explained.   
  
"Apparently, the doctor suspected an intestinal blockage   
  
and ordered him down to radiology for some kind of scan.   
  
An orderly showed up to pick him up and no one ever saw him   
  
again."   
  
"Everybody assumed he was with somebody else, huh?" Perry   
  
said. "Clever. Do they know who the so-called 'orderly'   
  
was?"   
  
"One of the other prisoners. Victor Howe. Ring a bell?"   
  
"Vic -- not that sidekick of his?"   
  
"Uh huh. Sentenced to forty years as an accomplice for   
  
Griffin's attempt to kidnap the President. Superman also   
  
found the remains of an inflatable boat mostly submerged   
  
under one of the piers at the waterfront. He told Zymack,   
  
so the APB is probably out by now."   
  
"It sounds as if they had outside help."   
  
Clark nodded. "It sure does. It's a place to start,   
  
anyway." He glanced at his watch. "I need to get home,   
  
Chief. I'll send in my follow-up piece from there."   
  
**********   
  
"You're kidding," Lois said. "*Griffin*?"   
  
"I'm afraid so." Clark said. He had settled down beside   
  
her on the sofa and was about to engage in a forlorn hope.   
  
"Honey, I hate to suggest it, but would you even consider   
  
relocating to Smallville until Zymack's got him under wraps   
  
again?" He rested a hand on her rounded tummy. "You're not   
  
exactly in a condition to deal with him at this point, and   
  
somehow, I doubt that he's grown to like you any better   
  
since you helped send him to prison, thirteen years ago. I   
  
can't be with you every minute, even though I'd do my best   
  
to be."   
  
Lois covered his hand with hers. "You're right."   
  
"I know you don't like to run away," Clark continued, "but   
  
this time, I really think..." He broke off. "I'm right?"   
  
"Yes, you are." She smiled. "If I were only risking   
  
myself, I'd argue with you, but it's not just me. It's CJ,   
  
Marta, Jonny and Jimmy -- and these three." She patted the   
  
place where her waistline had been. "There's no way I'll   
  
risk them."   
  
He grinned and wiped his forehead with the back of his   
  
hand. "Whew!"   
  
Lois pretended to scowl at him. "Clark Kent, you know I   
  
don't take crazy risks anymore!"   
  
"Well," he amended, "not usually."   
  
She whacked his chest lightly. "You're supposed to agree   
  
with me!"   
  
"Superman doesn't lie," he said, trying to look pious.   
  
"No, but Clark Kent does -- at least sometimes." She   
  
reached for the phone. "I guess we should call Dr. Klein.   
  
He might have some advice for me."   
  
"I already talked to him. He doesn't like it too much, but   
  
he had to admit that Griffin trying to kill you might be   
  
more risky than your being in Smallville. He was going to   
  
call Dr. Blaisdell, if you agreed to go."   
  
"Isn't that the new doctor?"   
  
"The new *obstetrician*," Clark said. "Smallville General   
  
now has its very own, fully - equipped labor and delivery   
  
suite *and* its own obstetrician working at the hospital.   
  
No more women in labor having to drive all the way to   
  
Cloverfield to have their babies."   
  
"It's about time," Lois said. "Now, if the hospital had   
  
more than twenty beds ..."   
  
"Hey, what do you expect for a town the size of   
  
Smallville?" Clark asked. "Anyway, Dr. Klein just said to   
  
fly low and carefully, and for me to come get him if you   
  
had so much as a hint of premature labor."   
  
"But, how about your job, here?"   
  
"I can work here and come back to Smallville when I'm off   
  
work. And if you even think you might be having a problem   
  
during the day, you're to call me via cell phone. Look at   
  
it this way. Mom won't have to leave the farm quite so   
  
soon, if you're in Smallville. You know she was planning   
  
to be out here next week to help us out. It'll be easier   
  
on her and Dad, too."   
  
"That's true," Lois agreed. "I guess I'd better go pack."   
  
"*I'll* pack," Clark said, firmly. "You're going to sit   
  
and direct the operation."   
  
"Clark, I'm not helpless," Lois said.   
  
"No, but you're six and a half months along with triplets.   
  
I've read everything I could find on the subject. Some   
  
women make it all the way through with no trouble, but an   
  
awful lot go into labor early. If you can hang onto them   
  
for at least another month..."   
  
"... They'll be much less likely to have complications,"   
  
Lois finished for him. "I know, I know. Okay, you can do   
  
the packing."   
  
"And Sandi will be here right after work to watch the kids   
  
while I take you to Smallville. Then, I'll come back for   
  
them." He lowered his glasses and glanced around the   
  
house. "Where are CJ, Marta and Linda, by the way?"   
  
"Wyatt came over to see CJ, and Maria showed up half an   
  
hour later. They decided to go to the park. They should   
  
be back soon."   
  
Clark frowned. The children were together, he thought. It   
  
was unlikely that Griffin would be looking for a bunch of   
  
kids, and anyway, how would he identify them? He almost   
  
certainly had another agenda besides revenge on Lois, and   
  
he'd been out for less than twenty-four hours. Still, the   
  
knowledge that CJ and Marta were in the park, unprotected,   
  
made him a little uneasy.   
  
It was the voice of the television announcer from the   
  
Barrows' home next door that intruded on his thoughts.   
  
Lois's voice cut through his sudden distraction. "What is   
  
it?"   
  
"There's an explosion in the subway near the Lombardy   
  
station."   
  
"Go. I'll be okay until you get back."   
  
He hesitated. Lois made shooing motions with her hands.   
  
"Go! I'll lock the doors and check before I open them for   
  
anyone."   
  
"Okay." He leaned forward to kiss her squarely on the   
  
mouth. "Be careful, honey."   
  
"I will. Go!"   
  
**********   
  
Marta, Linda and Marta's best friend, Maria Hernandez, had   
  
long since lost track of the two boys. CJ and Wyatt had   
  
vanished shortly after their arrival in the park, off to   
  
their "fort", where they engaged in their usual loud and,   
  
to the girls, senseless games. Maria, Linda and Marta had   
  
settled down in the afternoon sunshine and were engaged in   
  
a Barbie fashion show. Maria had brought along her new   
  
Barbie, and was busily parading her in front of the others   
  
in her most recent incarnation: "Superwoman Barbie" in a   
  
female version of Superman's outfit. In the light of her   
  
new knowledge about her own family, Marta wasn't sure what   
  
she thought of the idea. Her own doll was wearing a   
  
glittering, satin costume, trimmed with fake fur and   
  
sequins, and clutching a microphone: Vegas Barbie. Linda's   
  
doll was a somewhat older model, but Marta had given her   
  
several of her own Barbie's earlier ensembles, with which   
  
Linda had seemed delighted.   
  
It had been an exciting day for Marta. After watching   
  
Linda and CJ demonstrate their super-powers, Superman had   
  
tested her own developing abilities, and although she   
  
couldn't do nearly as much as CJ, she knew that wouldn't   
  
last. She was going to have super powers like Superman --   
  
her dad.   
  
The first shock of realizing that her own father was   
  
actually the hero who appeared on TV at least a couple of   
  
times a week had left her feeling a little stunned. He was   
  
in the encyclopedia, for Pete's sake! And in history books   
  
at school! They had learned everything that anyone knew   
  
about him in her Social Studies class when they had covered   
  
the New Kryptonian invasion of Earth. After the shock had   
  
worn off, she'd been left feeling slightly disillusioned.   
  
After all, Superman was supposed to be this perfect hero,   
  
but her dad wasn't perfect at all. Oh, he was smart, of   
  
course, and he could do a lot of things, but he sometimes   
  
got upset, and sometimes got mad, and sometimes he cracked   
  
stupid jokes that made her blush just to think about them,   
  
especially when he did it in front of her friends.   
  
Superman wasn't supposed to do any of those things.   
  
She still didn't quite understand why her friends all   
  
thought her dad was so cool. They laughed at his jokes,   
  
even while Marta was cringing, and when they ate dinner at   
  
her house, they always cleaned their plates and said her   
  
dad cooked the best food they'd ever tasted. And then, of   
  
course, there was Maria's crush on Superman. It was   
  
slightly embarrassing now, to think that her friend, who   
  
was only a couple of months older than Marta, had a crush   
  
on Marta's father! Her parents were really *old*! Her mom   
  
was forty, and her dad was even older!   
  
Of course, no one knew how old Superman was, because he   
  
looked almost the same as he had in the first pictures of   
  
him, way back before Marta had been born. When she hadn't   
  
known who he was she hadn't thought about it, but now that   
  
she did, it was something of a letdown. Sure, it was kind   
  
of cool that he could fly and was actually from another   
  
planet, but just the fact that he was her father took away   
  
a lot of the glamour. It was kind of like the day that   
  
she'd realized that Santa Claus didn't really exist, except   
  
as an idea. Parents weren't anything special, really.   
  
They were -- well, *parents*!   
  
She loved her father, all right; there wasn't any question   
  
about that -- but, even if he was Superman, and a hero, he   
  
was still just her father. How could you get all excited   
  
about that?   
  
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone approaching.   
  
She looked up to see a man standing some ten feet away,   
  
watching them. Out on the street, a white repair truck was   
  
parked next to the curb, and she could just barely see a   
  
second man sitting behind the wheel. The guy was wearing a   
  
white, one-piece outfit with a zipper up the front, like a   
  
lot of the uniforms the repair guys wore, so he'd probably   
  
come from the truck, but the way he was looking at her made   
  
her squirm.   
  
Marta glanced around. There were several people nearby,   
  
including a policeman, so she wasn't particularly worried,   
  
but she didn't like being stared at. She glared at the   
  
man, meeting his eyes defiantly. He continued to look at   
  
her for several seconds and then smiled slightly and turned   
  
to walk toward the van. A few seconds later, he climbed   
  
into the passenger seat and it pulled away.   
  
The alarm on Marta's watch beeped suddenly, and she glanced   
  
at the timepiece. It didn't seem possible that they had   
  
already been here over two hours. She reached for her   
  
Barbie case. "It's time to go home," she said. "I guess   
  
we'd better get Wyatt and CJ."   
  
**********   
  
By the time they arrived back at the Kent house, four   
  
blocks from the park, it was definitely getting toward   
  
evening. April in Metropolis was usually warm during the   
  
day and chilly at night. Marta always slept with her   
  
window wide open, but she hadn't noticed the cold,   
  
recently, and if she'd thought anything about it at all,   
  
she might have figured that they were having a warm snap.   
  
Later, it would get downright hot, but that was still two   
  
or three months away. She always liked the spring weather.   
  
Even rainstorms were exciting and she particularly liked   
  
thunderstorms. It was fun to stand at the window, watching   
  
the rain and the flashes of lightning and feeling the   
  
ground shake when the thunder was close by.   
  
"Aren't you cold?" Maria asked, pulling her sweater more   
  
tightly around her shoulders.   
  
Marta shook her head. CJ glanced at Marta but said   
  
nothing. Wyatt had zipped up his jacket, but CJ's hung   
  
open, and her brother seemed as comfortable as she was.   
  
People passing on the streets were wearing their coats and   
  
jackets buttoned up tightly, and for a moment, she was   
  
puzzled. It seemed that everyone was chilly but CJ and   
  
her.   
  
Then, it hit her. Superman flew around in freezing weather   
  
and never seemed in the least cold, even dressed in that   
  
tight, Spandex suit. This must be another effect of her   
  
beginning powers. She didn't get cold -- at least, not   
  
much. Someday, she would be like her dad and the cold   
  
wouldn't bother her at all -- and probably not the heat,   
  
either. Come to think of it, she'd never seen her father   
  
sweat, even on the hottest days when all the rest of them   
  
were fanning themselves and turning up the air conditioner.   
  
A glance at Linda confirmed it. She had buttoned up her   
  
light sweater, but she didn't seem the slightest bit   
  
uncomfortable. After a few seconds' consideration, she   
  
untied her sweater from around her waist and slipped it   
  
over her arms. Her dad did everything everyone else did,   
  
even when he didn't need to. It must be because he didn't   
  
want other people to realize that he was different. Marta   
  
would have to remember that from now on.   
  
As they were climbing the steps to the townhouse, she   
  
happened to glance over her shoulder at the setting sun.   
  
It was almost invisible behind the top of LexTower, and the   
  
big, lighted sign was hard to see with the sunlight blazing   
  
out from behind it that way. As she was turning back, a   
  
white van rounded the corner. She squinted at it,   
  
curiously. That looked a lot like the one that weird guy   
  
had gotten into, back at the park, only this one had a big   
  
decal on the side. She shrugged and dismissed the thought.   
  
She was probably letting her imagination run away with her   
  
again.   
  
The door was locked, and CJ pushed the buzzer. After a few   
  
minutes, her mom opened the door and let them in. "You guys   
  
are a little late," she said. "I was starting to worry."   
  
"Sorry," CJ said. "Where's Dad?"   
  
"There was an explosion in the subway. He went to get the   
  
story for the paper," her mother answered. Across the   
  
room, Marta noted that the television was on and the   
  
picture showed Superman ripping open crushed subway cars   
  
with his bare hands to allow the rescue workers access to   
  
the people inside. The thought hit her again that it was   
  
her father doing those things. It seemed impossible,   
  
although she knew it to be true. Maybe Dad was a *little*   
  
more special than she'd thought. He sure looked pretty   
  
heroic right then.   
  
Her mother was locking the door behind them. Marta saw her   
  
push the extra latch closed and fasten the chain and gave   
  
her a curious look. What was going on?   
  
"It's getting late," she said. "Clark can give you a ride   
  
back to your house as soon as he gets home, Maria."   
  
"Sure. Thanks, Mrs. Kent," Maria said. She headed for the   
  
stairs, trailed by Linda. Marta started after them and CJ   
  
and Wyatt headed for the kitchen. Boys! Marta thought.   
  
They never thought of anything but their stomachs! Even   
  
Wyatt was constantly stuffing himself. Still, she guessed   
  
he was anxious to catch up with CJ. He had just turned ten   
  
in February and was still shorter than Marta.   
  
Her mother had settled down on the couch again, and now she   
  
winced slightly and put a hand to her stomach. "That was a   
  
funny one," she said.   
  
"What was?" Marta asked.   
  
"You know those painless contractions I told you about?"   
  
Marta nodded. She knew all about those. Mom had grumbled   
  
about them most the time that she had been expecting Jimmy.   
  
"Sure."   
  
"That one hurt a little." She frowned, rubbing a hand   
  
lightly across her rounded middle. "Oh well, one of the   
  
babies probably had an elbow in the wrong place."   
  
Marta frowned, too. Dad had already told her to call him   
  
if Mom started having pains across her stomach. He'd said   
  
that Mom might not want to call him away from an emergency   
  
for what was probably a false alarm, but that he wanted her   
  
to let him know, anyhow. He'd made Marta swear she would   
  
call him right away at the first sign of anything that   
  
didn't seem right.   
  
She started for the stairs once more. If she tried to call   
  
Dad from here, Mom would tell her not to make a fuss over   
  
it. There was a phone, however, in her parents' bedroom.   
  
She would use that one.   
  
**********   
  
Clark's cell phone beeped softly as he forced open the   
  
doors of the last car to let frightened and shaken-up   
  
passengers out. He stepped back to allow the rescue   
  
personnel to enter and retrieved the little instrument.   
  
"Superman," he said, mindful of the paramedic who looked   
  
quizzically at him as he squeezed past.   
  
"Daddy?" It was Marta's voice. "You told me to call you if   
  
Mommy --"   
  
"Is she having contractions?" he asked, quickly, belatedly   
  
noticing the firefighter who gave him a curious glance at   
  
the question. Oh well, it was too late to do anything   
  
about that, now.   
  
"I don't know. She had one of those Brax -- uh, those   
  
things that don't hurt --"   
  
"Braxton-Hicks contractions," Clark said, this time keeping   
  
his voice low.   
  
"Yeah, those. Only she said it felt funny and that it   
  
*did* hurt. She said one of the babies might have his   
  
elbow in the wrong place or something. I didn't know if I   
  
should call you, but you said to if *anything* seemed   
  
wrong."   
  
"You did the right thing," he told her, at once. "I'll be   
  
there in a few minutes. I've about finished here." He   
  
thrust the cellular phone into its hiding place and turned   
  
to give the disaster scene a quick survey. The fires were   
  
out and rescue personnel seemed to have the situation well   
  
in hand. The man coordinating the effort was only a short   
  
distance away, in conference with three of his   
  
subordinates. Clark approached and waited for him to   
  
finish giving his instructions.   
  
At last, Chief Rostoff turned to him. "Yes?"   
  
"Chief, I have another emergency I need to get to. Is   
  
there anything else you want me to do before I go?"   
  
Rostoff shook his head. "Thanks, Superman, but I think we   
  
can handle the rest. You beat the Jaws of Life, hands   
  
down. Go."   
  
"You're welcome." Clark was gone on the word. Two minutes   
  
later he was walking up the stairs of the townhouse. When   
  
he unlocked the door and it still wouldn't open, he lowered   
  
his glasses and checked. Lois had kept her promise. Both   
  
the bolt and the chain lock were fastened. He rang the   
  
bell, and after a short wait, Marta opened the door.   
  
"Is everything okay?" he asked.   
  
"I guess," Marta said. "There was just that one, but -- "   
  
"That's okay," he said. "Remember, I told you to call."   
  
He looked past her to where Lois sat on the sofa, her feet   
  
propped up on a pillow. "You can go on upstairs, now.   
  
I'll take over."   
  
"Okay." Marta followed him into the living room and headed   
  
for the stairs. Upstairs, Clark could hear a videogame   
  
going full blast, accompanied by the bleeps and chirps of a   
  
computer game, as well.   
  
"How did it go?" Lois asked.   
  
"Apparently someone set off a homemade bomb just past the   
  
Lombardy station," Clark said. "Part of the roof came down   
  
and the train plowed into it. Lots of people hurt, but no   
  
one was killed."   
  
"Well, you'd better write it up for the paper," Lois said.   
  
"After that, you can pack for me. You need to take Maria   
  
home, too."   
  
Clark nodded and went into the little den where they had   
  
set up the new computer. It took him no more than a minute   
  
to write up the story, including a short quote from   
  
Superman, and he transmitted it to the Planet, but all the   
  
time, most of his attention was centered on his wife and   
  
the babies' heartbeats.   
  
It was some half an hour later, when he was carefully   
  
folding a pair of maternity jeans for Lois, that she   
  
grimaced.   
  
"Ow," she remarked. "That's the second one of those."   
  
Clark had been listening. The slight change in blood flow   
  
that marked a contraction was fully audible to his ears,   
  
when he made a point of listening, and now, he lowered his   
  
glasses and focussed in on his wife's abdomen. "Lois, that   
  
was a contraction," he said.   
  
"I know." She looked impatient. "I've been having them   
  
all along. You know that."   
  
"No, that was a *contraction*." He dropped the jeans and   
  
reached for the phone. "I'm calling Dr. Klein."   
  
"Clark, don't be silly. One of the babies probably was   
  
poking me with a knee, or something."   
  
"Even so, I don't think we should take the chance," he   
  
said. "You know the chances of premature labor are higher   
  
with triplets. We need to be sure. Dr. Klein said that if   
  
it happened, they might be able to stop the labor if it   
  
hasn't gone too far."   
  
She opened her mouth instinctively to protest and shut it   
  
again. Clark dialed the number for Dr. Klein's cell phone.   
  
**********   
  
"You're about three centimeters dilated, Lois," Bernie   
  
said. "I'm going to hook you up to a monitor. If it *is*   
  
early labor, we should be able to stop it, at least for   
  
now. The longer you can hang onto those babies, the   
  
better."   
  
"I know that!" Anxiety was making Lois's voice sharper   
  
than Dr. Klein thought she intended. "Let's get on with   
  
it!"   
  
Clark put a hand on her arm. "Bernie's doing his best,   
  
honey," he said. "Try to relax, okay? It can't be doing   
  
you or the babies any good to get upset."   
  
Lois turned to glare at her husband, but to the scientist's   
  
surprise, she closed her mouth and nodded. Clark slipped   
  
his large hand around hers and squeezed it lightly. Dr.   
  
Klein turned to the technician. "Let's get her set up."   
  
"You'd better call Sandi," Lois said. "Tell her that we're   
  
going to be awhile."   
  
"I will. I'll call your mom and ask her to take over,"   
  
Clark said. "Sandi's going to need to get home,   
  
eventually."   
  
"There's a phone in the hall," Dr. Klein said, helpfully.   
  
He watched Clark kiss his wife gently on the cheek and   
  
stride to the door, and the thought flitted through his   
  
mind that most people had a completely wrong idea of   
  
Superman. People thought of him as awesomely powerful,   
  
able to bend steel with his bare hands, bounce bullets from   
  
his chest without a blink (although, Bernie had never seen   
  
him do so. He caught them, instead, so the projectiles   
  
didn't ricochet into an innocent bystander), and generally   
  
the stern, unflinching hero in the face of adversity. In   
  
reality, Superman was an incredibly gentle person, who   
  
loved his family and would do anything to help the people   
  
of his adopted world. If he hadn't been, he wouldn't have   
  
willingly taken on the impossible task of being Superman,   
  
subjecting himself and his family to the inevitable   
  
difficulties and sometimes the downright pain that went   
  
with the job.   
  
The technician had disappeared into the next room and now   
  
returned with a rolling cart loaded with equipment. Dr.   
  
Klein stepped back to allow her to position the sensors on   
  
Lois's abdomen.   
  
Lois was looking frightened, although he was sure she would   
  
deny it if asked. It was amazing to him that Lois Lane   
  
could face down pathological killers, mad bombers and   
  
deranged scientists without a second thought, but this   
  
situation genuinely scared her. Well, naturally, it scared   
  
her, he reminded himself. These were her babies, and   
  
Clark's, that were at stake.   
  
"If this *is* early labor, it hasn't gone far," he found   
  
himself trying to reassure her. "I'm pretty sure we can   
  
stop it before it goes much farther. Even another two   
  
weeks will make a big difference, you know."   
  
She nodded, and he saw that she was watching the door   
  
through which her husband had disappeared. At that moment,   
  
it opened and he stepped into the room. Watching his   
  
patient, Bernie saw her relax slightly. Superman to the   
  
rescue again, he thought, then firmly squelched the   
  
whimsical thought as Clark crossed the room to take up his   
  
place beside his wife.   
  
"What's happening at home?" she asked.   
  
He slipped his hand around hers again. "I got Sandi on the   
  
phone and brought her up to date," he explained. "Jim   
  
drove Maria home and brought pizza for the kids. Carolyn   
  
picked Linda up about twenty minutes ago and Wyatt's   
  
staying the night, like we arranged last week. I told   
  
Sandi I was going to get hold of Ellen and ask her to take   
  
over so that she and Jim could go home."   
  
"What did Mom say?"   
  
"Sam is going to drive her over. She said for me to tell   
  
you not to worry. So did Sandi, so all you have to do now   
  
is relax and let Bernie do his job."   
  
"Just so long as I don't have her over here, driving me   
  
crazy," Lois muttered. "It's not that I don't appreciate   
  
her help, but I don't think I could take it, right now."   
  
Bernie hid a smile. Ellen Lane might have been an   
  
excellent nurse, but her bedside manner around her daughter   
  
and son-in-law often left a good deal to be desired and he   
  
was quite sure that her presence in these circumstances   
  
would not benefit Lois. He'd met her at a number of social   
  
events involving the Kent family. She reminded him   
  
strongly of his late Aunt Gertrude who could take a   
  
pleasant family gathering and turn it into a massive   
  
migraine for every other person present. He was quite sure   
  
that Ellen meant well, but her method of demonstrating   
  
concern and affection for her daughters inevitably tended   
  
to express itself in criticism, and usually made everyone   
  
within hearing extremely uncomfortable.   
  
"Don't worry, Lois," he found himself saying. "If anyone   
  
shows up here wanting to see you, I've left orders that no   
  
one is to be allowed in without my personal permission."   
  
**********   
  
Marta Kent loaded the last dish into the dishwasher and   
  
poured detergent into the receptacle. She glanced over her   
  
shoulder to where her older brother was wiping the counter.   
  
"You missed a spot," she announced, with sisterly smugness.   
  
"Didn't," CJ said. "That's a tomato sauce stain." He   
  
rinsed the sponge. "I'll have to use some bleach on it   
  
like Mom does. Do you know where Dad keeps it?"   
  
Normally, Marta would have been surprised at his attention   
  
to such a small detail, but she and CJ had learned from   
  
experience that, though their father might let them get   
  
away with it, Aunt Sandi was worse than a drill sergeant   
  
when it came to a clean kitchen. She didn't let you get   
  
away with *anything*.   
  
"The bleach is in the basement on the laundry shelf," she   
  
said. She closed the door of the dishwasher and turned it   
  
on.   
  
"You're supposed to run the hot water first," CJ said.   
  
"Otherwise the dishes don't get clean."   
  
Marta made a face. She hated it when her brother was right,   
  
but if the dishes didn't get clean, Dad would make her do   
  
them over. By hand. She shut off the dishwasher and   
  
turned on the hot water.   
  
A sudden rustling sound under the stove caught her   
  
attention, and she saw CJ glance at it. "Another mouse,"   
  
he said. "I hope Mom lets us get a cat, like she was   
  
talking about the other day. I don't like mousetraps and   
  
poisons and stuff."   
  
Marta recalled the time at Grandma and Grandpa Kent's last   
  
Thanksgiving, when Patches, their calico cat, had caught   
  
the mouse. That hadn't been very nice. Still, having mice   
  
running around in the house wasn't so great, either. The   
  
options of catching them in traps or letting a cat do the   
  
job didn't appeal to her, but they couldn't leave things   
  
the way they were, or so Dad had said, especially after   
  
he'd found his best charcoal suit with the sleeve chewed by   
  
a mouse, last week. Why weren't there any better choices,   
  
anyway? Couldn't Dad catch them and take them into the   
  
country, or something? He was Superman, after all!   
  
In the living room, the doorbell rang. CJ glanced in the   
  
direction of the front door and she saw him narrow his   
  
eyes. "It's Grandmother and Grandfather Lane."   
  
He was using his x-ray vision, Marta thought, wistfully.   
  
Oh well, Dad had said hers would come in soon, just like   
  
CJ's had.   
  
The doorbell rang again. CJ glanced upward. "Uncle Jimmy's   
  
rocking Perry in Mom and Dad's bedroom and Aunt Sandi is   
  
getting Jonny and Jimmy ready for bed. I'll get it."   
  
Wyatt poked his head into the kitchen. "Somebody's at the   
  
door."   
  
"I'll get it," CJ said again. "Get the bleach, would you,   
  
Marta? I'll fix the counter when I get back."   
  
Marta wasn't sure about this. Didn't Dad use that cleanser   
  
from the spray bottle? Still, maybe that had bleach in it,   
  
too. She hunted around under the sink, but the spray   
  
bottle failed to materialize. Well, bleach was probably   
  
the next best choice. Marta opened the door to the   
  
basement. The stairs were dark and she switched on the   
  
light before descending the long flight of wooden steps.   
  
The basement was definitely cooler than the rest of the   
  
house. She wasn't exactly cold, but she noticed the   
  
temperature difference. The sudden rustle of motion below   
  
made her pause for an instant, and then she remembered the   
  
mouse. Maybe getting a cat wasn't such a bad idea after   
  
all, she thought. There sure seemed to be a lot of the   
  
creatures.   
  
She had reached the shelf where Dad kept the laundry items   
  
and was standing on her toes to reach the bleach, when she   
  
noticed that the window that opened in the opposite wall,   
  
just at ground level, was broken. That was the source of   
  
the cool draft she was feeling. She'd better tell Dad when   
  
he got home from the hospital with Mom.   
  
She frowned a little. Mom would be okay, she told herself.   
  
Dr. Klein was a good doctor and he'd never let anything   
  
happen to Mom or the babies. Meanwhile, she and CJ needed   
  
to finish the kitchen. Besides, she wanted to get out of   
  
the basement. For some reason, tonight the place gave her   
  
the creeps.   
  
The bottle of bleach was just barely within reach and she   
  
nudged it toward her with the tips of her fingers. It   
  
reached the edge of the shelf and fell, and Marta caught   
  
it. Turning toward the stairs, she found herself hoping   
  
that when she grew up she would be tall. Being short had so   
  
many disadvantages. Mom wasn't very tall, and she always   
  
wore high heels at work and complained that they made her   
  
feet hurt. Marta didn't want to wear shoes that hurt her   
  
feet. On the other hand, maybe when she got to be   
  
invulnerable, high heels wouldn't hurt and she wouldn't   
  
care if they pinched her toes or not.   
  
Toiling back up the stairs with the bleach in one hand, she   
  
again heard the rustling below her and grimaced. That sure   
  
sounded like more than one mouse down there. Maybe that   
  
was where they had their nest or something. She hoped that   
  
she could persuade Dad to try to catch them and fly them   
  
out into the country, somewhere, instead of getting a bunch   
  
of traps, or even a cat, although kittens were cute.   
  
Pushing open the door at the top of the stairs, she   
  
switched off the light and exited into the warmth of the   
  
kitchen, closing the panel behind her.   
  
**********   
  
"So, kids, what do you usually do at this time of night?"   
  
Sam Lane asked.   
  
Marta glanced at the clock. "It's eight o'clock," she   
  
announced. "Jonny and Jimmy have to go to bed and CJ and   
  
Wyatt and I get to watch Animal Comics. Mom and Dad let us   
  
stay up until eight-thirty on weekends."   
  
CJ nodded vigorously. "That's the rule. When we turn ten,   
  
we get to stay up an extra half hour."   
  
Sam considered the statement. "Sounds fair to me. Okay,   
  
boys, upstairs and brush your teeth. I'll be up in a few   
  
minutes to read you a story. What would you like?"   
  
"Daddy's reading us 'The Wizard of Oz'," Jonny said.   
  
"Okay, the Wizard it is," Sam agreed. He glanced at Marta.   
  
"Does your dad read you and CJ any stories, Princess?"   
  
Marta nodded. "Dad is reading CJ and me 'A Martian   
  
Odyssey'," she said.   
  
"'A Martian Odyssey'?" Sam said, raising his brows.   
  
"Don't you want to read something more for girls?"   
  
"*Girl* stories?" Marta said, in utter disdain. "Those are   
  
boring."   
  
"Oh." Sam was slightly taken aback. "Okay, I guess we'll   
  
read about the Martians, then."   
  
Ellen Lane raised an eyebrow. "You have to remember, Sam.   
  
This is *Lois's* daughter you're talking to."   
  
"Good point," Sam said, wisely refraining from making a   
  
remark that Ellen would, he was sure, find insulting.   
  
Marta might be female, but she took after Lois, and Lois   
  
had never followed the crowd. When she had been a child,   
  
he'd often found her more like a boy than a girl. She'd   
  
idolized him when she had been little, he thought,   
  
wistfully. He'd been foolish to ignore her just because of   
  
her gender. It was too bad that it had taken so long for   
  
him to figure that out, but here before him was another   
  
tough little girl, his granddaughter, so like Lois as a   
  
child that he sometimes imagined that she was her mother   
  
all over again. He wouldn't make the mistakes he had made   
  
with his own daughter a second time. "Why don't you and CJ   
  
and Wyatt go watch your show while I read to Jonny and   
  
Jimmy and then we'll read about the Martians."   
  
"Just one Martian," Marta said. "His name is Tweel."   
  
"Oh." Sam had no idea which story this was; he'd never   
  
been particularly into science fiction as a teen.   
  
"Grandma Kent gave us the book," CJ said. "It's part of   
  
her collection."   
  
That made more sense, Sam thought. Martha Kent had wide   
  
interests in just about everything. Sam had never met a   
  
more curious or intelligent person than his son-in-law's   
  
mother. Martha and Jonathan Kent were certainly the main   
  
reason that Clark was the kind of man and husband that he   
  
was. Sam didn't give an iota of credit to Ellen's often-  
  
voiced suspicions that Clark's tendency to vanish at odd   
  
moments meant that he was having an affair with another   
  
woman. Sam knew the signs of an unfaithful husband from   
  
personal experience and Clark didn't show a single one.   
  
There was undoubtedly an explanation for the strange   
  
behavior but that particular one wasn't it. His habit of   
  
disappearing didn't seem to bother Lois in the least, and   
  
that convinced Sam that she knew what was behind it. The   
  
fact that she hadn't told Ellen what it was in order to end   
  
the argument left him slightly curious, since Lois quite   
  
obviously detested the subject when Ellen brought it up,   
  
which she frequently did.   
  
Marta, CJ and Wyatt headed up the stairs to the playroom   
  
and the two, younger boys raced for the bathroom. Ellen   
  
looked after them. "Clark's a good father. I only hope he   
  
doesn't break Lois's heart. I can't help but wonder..."   
  
"Ellen, Clark loves Lois, and he's crazy about his kids,"   
  
Sam found himself saying. "The last thing on Earth he'd do   
  
would be to hurt her or them."   
  
"I can't help it," Ellen said, fretfully. "The way he   
  
disappears..."   
  
Sometimes, Sam thought she could read minds. "He's a   
  
reporter, Ellen. Lois would know if it were anything more   
  
than that. Our daughter isn't stupid."   
  
Ellen shook her head. "She makes excuses for him," she   
  
said. "I think she doesn't want to see it."   
  
"He doesn't act like a cheating husband. I've never seen a   
  
man more in love with any woman than Clark is with Lois,"   
  
Sam said, repeating his earlier thoughts. "I think there's   
  
another reason, and I think Lois knows exactly where he   
  
goes and what he does."   
  
"Then, why doesn't she tell me?"   
  
He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe she doesn't think it's   
  
anyone's business. Maybe he's a secret agent or   
  
something." Sam broke off the sentence, quickly. "Ellen,   
  
they've been married for over eleven years. They have one   
  
of the most solid marriages I've ever seen. Don't borrow   
  
trouble."   
  
"He's no secret agent, Sam. I'm certain there's a woman   
  
involved."   
  
Sam barely suppressed an incredulous laugh. "Have you ever   
  
seen him so much as look at another woman, Ellen?"   
  
"No, but -- "   
  
"Daddy isn't cheating on my mom," Marta's voice said from   
  
above, sounding cross. "Daddy loves my mom. You shouldn't   
  
say things like that, Grandma."   
  
Sam glanced up, appalled. His granddaughter was standing   
  
on the upstairs landing, and if her expression was any   
  
guide, she was furious. She glared at Ellen. "I know why   
  
my Daddy goes away, sometimes, and so does Mommy, and my   
  
mommy says people shouldn't gossip, especially when they   
  
don't know what they're talking about!" The little girl   
  
turned and marched in the direction of her room. A second   
  
later, Sam heard her door slam -- hard enough to shake the   
  
walls.   
  
Ellen looked just as horrified as he felt. "Oh, my god,   
  
what have I done?" she whispered. She started toward the   
  
stairs.   
  
Sam caught her wrist. "I don't think that's a good idea,   
  
Ellen."   
  
"I have to talk to her -- "   
  
Sam let her go. "I don't think she's going to listen."   
  
Ellen ignored him and hurried up the steps. Sam followed,   
  
more slowly. Jonny and Jimmy were standing in the hall,   
  
watching the scenario, wide-eyed, and from above he heard   
  
the door of the playroom open. A moment later, CJ and   
  
Wyatt were peering down, obviously drawn by the sound of   
  
the slammed door. Sam closed his eyes for an instant.   
  
This was rapidly spiraling out of control. He made one   
  
more feeble attempt to stop his wife. "Ellen, I don't   
  
think --"   
  
Ellen knocked on Marta's door. "Marta --"   
  
"Go away, Grandma," Marta said.   
  
Ellen tried to turn the knob, but, not to Sam's surprise,   
  
the door was locked. "Open the door, Marta."   
  
"No!" Surprisingly, she didn't sound as if she were   
  
crying, Sam thought. Instead, her voice sounded coldly   
  
angry. "I don't want to talk to you! You don't know   
  
anything about my daddy or you wouldn't say things like   
  
that about him!"   
  
"Then, why don't you tell me?"   
  
"Because it's none of your business!" the curt, childish   
  
voice informed her grandmother, through the door. "Go   
  
away!"   
  
In spite of the seriousness of the situation, Sam had to   
  
hide a smile. Nobody would have had the nerve to tell off   
  
his wife but his granddaughter. Marta Kent had all the   
  
fire and courage of her mother and the bluntness of a   
  
child. The combination was impressive.   
  
Ellen looked helplessly at him. "What should I do?"   
  
"I think you'd better let her alone," Sam said. "You'll   
  
have to tell Clark or Lois about it, though. Maybe one of   
  
them can smooth it over."   
  
"Sam, I can't!" A trace of panic crossed his wife's face.   
  
"Marta certainly will if you don't," Sam pointed out the   
  
obvious. "You know that, don't you?"   
  
"Sam, I can't tell Clark that I --"   
  
"Don't you think that he already knows what you've said   
  
about him?" Sam said, copying Marta's bluntness. "Lois   
  
has probably told him, anyway."   
  
"She wouldn't!"   
  
"If you're wrong, and I think you are, she's told him," Sam   
  
said. "It won't be a surprise. I think it can wait,   
  
though. They don't need any more crises right now."   
  
"Dad knows all about it," CJ's voice said from above. His   
  
voice was completely flat and his face was unreadable.   
  
"And he's not cheating on Mom. Marta's right, though."   
  
"About what?"   
  
"People shouldn't gossip about things they don't know   
  
anything about." CJ turned and went into the playroom,   
  
followed by Wyatt. Sam stared after him. CJ was normally   
  
a quiet, extremely polite child. He must be pretty angry   
  
to say something like that.   
  
Ellen buried her face in her hands and Sam heaved a sigh of   
  
despair. Even he had underestimated the reaction of the   
  
older Kent children. This wasn't going to be pretty. He   
  
put a hand on his wife's arm. "Come on, Ellen. I think   
  
the best thing you can do right now is to leave it alone.   
  
Let's go back downstairs."   
  
Uncharacteristically chastened, Ellen nodded.   
  
"Are you going to read to us, Grandfather Sam?" Jonny   
  
asked.   
  
"Sure, sport," Sam said. "Go get into your pjs and I'll be   
  
right there."   
  
It was only after he'd gone downstairs again and into the   
  
kitchen to get a cup of coffee to quiet his jangled nerves   
  
that the question occurred to him.   
  
How had CJ known the subject of the conversation that made   
  
his sister so angry? He'd been in the playroom until the   
  
slammed door had brought him out. The boy must have   
  
hearing as good as Superman's to have heard them speaking.   
  
The thought startled him, and he hurriedly dismissed it.   
  
CJ was a smart kid, and had undoubtedly put two and two   
  
together from the situation and the conversation between   
  
Ellen and himself in the upper hall.   
  
Only, how had he known what Marta had said, inside her   
  
room? Her voice had been audible to Sam, but just barely,   
  
and he'd been standing right outside her door. Was it   
  
possible?   
  
After a moment, he shook his head. CJ was a relative of   
  
Clark's, adopted by Lois and Clark when his teenage mother   
  
couldn't keep him. He even looked like Clark. Besides,   
  
Superman was an extraterrestrial, no matter how human he   
  
appeared. It wasn't possible. Still ... Sam decided that   
  
this was a theory that he had best not mention to Ellen, or   
  
anyone else.   
  
**********   
  
"You're having contractions," Bernie said.   
  
Lois gripped Clark's hand. "What can we do?"   
  
"We're going to administer drugs to stop your labor,"   
  
Bernie said. "It hasn't gone beyond the point of no   
  
return, yet. This is going to mean you have to change your   
  
lifestyle for the rest of your pregnancy, though."   
  
Clark saw his wife clench her jaw. "What do I have to do?"   
  
she asked.   
  
Bernie glanced at him and then looked back at his patient.   
  
"You're going to have to stay in bed. Flat. And if that   
  
doesn't work, we'll have to elevate your hips. We need to   
  
keep those babies where they are as long as possible."   
  
There was a long silence. "Okay," Lois said. "Let's get   
  
on with it."   
  
Only Clark knew how tightly her hand was grasping his. As   
  
the medical personnel moved around, rigging an intravenous   
  
setup, the sound of a radio in the other room reporting a   
  
pileup on the parkway made him tense slightly, but he   
  
gritted his teeth. This time, the emergency services were   
  
going to have to do without Superman. It was more   
  
important that he be here with the most important person in   
  
his life, while she was undergoing the most stressful   
  
situation that she had ever endured, than that he go out to   
  
rescue strangers.   
  
"What is it?" she asked.   
  
"Nothing."   
  
"Clark." She fixed him with a stare that told him that she   
  
wasn't going to accept that. "*What* is it?"   
  
He bent until his lips were less than an inch from her ear.   
  
"Accident on the freeway."   
  
She squeezed his hand and released it. "Go."   
  
"Lois..."   
  
"Go!" she said. "The quicker you go, the quicker you'll   
  
get back."   
  
Still, he hesitated. She glared at him. "Move it, Clark!"   
  
Unwillingly, he smiled. "Aye aye, ma'am. I'll be back as   
  
fast as I can."   
  
Bernard Klein put a hand on Lois's shoulder. "I'll be here   
  
with her, Clark. Go."   
  
Still reluctant but obedient, he turned and hurried out the   
  
door.   
  
The accident was between a van, carrying a group of   
  
teenagers, and a pickup truck with a middle-aged couple   
  
trapped in the cab. The paramedics were coming but still   
  
several minutes away; he saw their flashing lights below as   
  
he passed overhead on his way to the scene and an instant   
  
later, swooped in for a landing.   
  
Swiftly, he ripped the door from the pickup and freed the   
  
passengers with the care that he had learned over the   
  
fifteen years that Superman had been handling situations   
  
like this. The gas tank was leaking, and it was of   
  
paramount importance that he get everyone away from the   
  
truck as fast as he could.   
  
Leaving the couple under the care of a motorcycle cop, he   
  
hurried to the van. Even while working on the pickup   
  
truck, he had been aware of the scent of alcohol issuing   
  
from the vehicle. Two members of the Highway Patrol had   
  
managed to force a side door halfway open when he arrived   
  
and willingly backed away to let Superman complete the job.   
  
While they carefully pulled the shaken teens free of the   
  
wreck, he worked quickly to stem the bleeding of the girl   
  
who had been in the front passenger seat.   
  
Amazingly enough, all the participants had been wearing   
  
seat belts and the girl was the most badly injured of the   
  
four. He applied pressure to the severed artery in her   
  
leg, while reassuring her that the paramedics would be   
  
there momentarily. Sure enough, the white truck with its   
  
flashing blue lights pulled up less than five minutes later   
  
and he was able to surrender his post to one of the medics.   
  
He turned to one of the police. "Do you need me anymore?   
  
I was in the middle of another situation when I heard the   
  
radio report."   
  
The man shook his head. "No, I think we can manage.   
  
Thanks for the help, Superman."   
  
"You're welcome." He launched himself into the air and   
  
headed back toward the hospital.   
  
Halfway there, he decided to make a short detour. The   
  
escape of Kyle Griffin from Stryker's Island had not   
  
escaped his memory, nor had the fact that the man had a   
  
special hatred for Lois, whom he blamed for his   
  
incarceration. He wouldn't put it past Griffin to track   
  
down her current home and start planning some method of   
  
revenge on her. Neither had he forgotten the fact that   
  
Griffin and Victor must have had some outside help in their   
  
escape. Whoever that person was, he or she could have all   
  
the information the Prankster needed in order to gain his   
  
revenge on the reporter he blamed for his misfortune. That   
  
he might not be planning any such revenge didn't rate more   
  
than an instant's consideration. Unless the man had   
  
changed drastically, he would be after Lois.   
  
Hovering over the townhouse, he tuned his hearing to the   
  
sounds within the building.   
  
"Have you ever seen him so much as look at another woman,   
  
Ellen?" Sam Lane's voice sounded skeptical.   
  
"No, but --" That was Ellen.   
  
"Daddy isn't cheating on my mom." He heard his daughter's   
  
voice and, if he was any judge, she sounded mad. "Daddy   
  
loves my mom. You shouldn't say things like that,   
  
Grandma."   
  
Ellen's often-expressed suspicion of his disappearances was   
  
apparently the subject of the discussion, Clark thought.   
  
Only, this time, Marta's new super-hearing had picked up   
  
her grandmother's remarks. Clark hung in the air,   
  
listening to the subsequent uproar, wincing occasionally.   
  
When the argument had run its course, he rolled his eyes.   
  
Life in the Kent household was lively tonight, and Ellen   
  
would certainly have food for thought for a time. He didn't   
  
have much hope that Marta and CJ's defense of him would   
  
have much of an impact but he was proud of his children.   
  
He'd have to speak with them about the subject tomorrow,   
  
but right now, he needed to get back to Lois.   
  
Quickly, he scanned the neighborhood. Everything seemed   
  
quiet, or at least normal. The Grandon children were   
  
fighting over the possession of the TV remote again and he   
  
could hear the mutual insults of a pair of tomcats squaring   
  
off in the alley that ran behind the townhouse. Halfway   
  
down the block, a white van with an enormous cartoon   
  
termite, its six legs in the air, painted on the side, was   
  
parked against the curb. Large, black letters identified   
  
it as belonging to "Killzem Termite Control". Nothing   
  
seemed out of the way. Reassured, he turned in the air and   
  
headed back toward the hospital.   
  
**********   
  
Sam Lane descended the stairs, still holding the book that   
  
he had just finished reading to CJ, Marta and Wyatt. Ellen   
  
was moving around in the kitchen, probably making more   
  
coffee. He shook his head. In a way, the upset between   
  
Ellen and the children was partly his fault. He'd given his   
  
wife reason to suspect men of unfaithfulness by his own   
  
extramarital affairs in their own married life, years ago.   
  
He'd learned the hard way and so had Ellen. Unfortunately,   
  
she had carried that mistrust on to her daughters'   
  
marriages to the point where the slightest doubt translated   
  
into instant suspicion. Lucy's husband, Jay, openly   
  
avoided her. Clark didn't, but sometimes Sam could see   
  
Lois gritting her teeth when her mother brought up the   
  
subject of Clark's frequent absences.   
  
There was a family portrait on the wall by the foot of the   
  
stairs and he studied it for several moments. It had been   
  
done a couple of years before. CJ was about nine, Marta   
  
eight, Jonny about four and Jimmy was a baby, sitting on   
  
Lois's lap. Clark stood behind his family, one hand on   
  
Lois's shoulder. CJ, seated beside his mother, grinned his   
  
father's grin at the camera.   
  
Sam leaned forward. CJ looked remarkably like Clark and   
  
like his younger siblings. All of them had their father's   
  
slightly Asian eyes. Otherwise, Marta looked a good deal   
  
like Lois, but the stern expression she wore as she stared   
  
solemnly at the camera, reminded him of someone else.   
  
Sam squinted at the picture of his granddaughter, trying to   
  
place the occasion, but couldn't quite pin it down.   
  
He turned his attention to Jonny. The little boy's eyes   
  
were exactly the same as those of both Marta and CJ, and if   
  
Sam hadn't known how impossible it was, he'd have sworn   
  
that Jonny was CJ's biological brother as well as his   
  
adoptive one. The chubby, baby face had his father's   
  
determined chin and the same brilliant, white-toothed   
  
smile.   
  
Sam blinked suddenly. He'd seen that smile on someone else   
  
recently on the front page of the Daily Planet. It   
  
couldn't possibly be what he was thinking. Lois's crush on   
  
Superman had faded years ago, although the Man of Steel   
  
remained a friend of the Kent family -- but there had been   
  
that picture on the front page of the Dirt Digger, the   
  
first year Lois and Clark had been married -- that shocking   
  
scandal about Superman and Lois...   
  
But, that had been revealed as a smear campaign, he   
  
reassured himself. Lois and Superman had denied it and Jim   
  
Olsen had produced proof of the fraudulent photograph...   
  
But, CJ and Jonny could have been miniature versions of the   
  
Man of Steel. And Marta, looking sternly into the camera,   
  
could have been his sister. Or his daughter.   
  
But, he'd already gone over that. Superman was an extra-  
  
terrestrial. The possibility of his being able to produce   
  
children with an Earthwoman wasn't even worth considering.   
  
But his gaze strayed back to CJ again. That white,   
  
dazzling grin was Superman's.   
  
But, it was Clark's, too. Sam reached into the pocket of   
  
his jacket and removed his reading glasses. Slipping them   
  
on, he began to study his son-in-law's photograph with a   
  
growing sense of discovery. Perhaps, he thought, Lois's   
  
infatuation with Superman hadn't exactly faded, after all.   
  
If what he thought was true, then he had the explanation   
  
for Clark's sudden disappearances right in front of him.   
  
"What are you doing, Sam?" Ellen's voice said, behind him.   
  
He barely concealed his start. "Ellen, don't sneak up on   
  
me like that!" He turned around, removing the glasses. "I   
  
was just noticing how much CJ looks like Clark. There's a   
  
strong family resemblance."   
  
"I wouldn't be surprised if he *is* Clark's," Ellen said,   
  
darkly. "I never really believed that story about a   
  
teenage cousin ... "   
  
"Ellen, don't start that again." Sam wasn't about to let   
  
this conversation go any further. "You're already in the   
  
kids' bad graces for even suggesting something like that   
  
about their dad, and I don't believe it for a second.   
  
Clark doesn't show any of the signs of a man having an   
  
affair. Believe me, I know from experience." He fixed his   
  
wife with a stern stare. "I learned my lesson, sweetheart.   
  
I made life hell for you and for the girls, and I'll never   
  
be able to forgive myself for it -- but don't transfer it   
  
to Clark. All you do is annoy Lois and upset the kids.   
  
There's some other reason he takes off the way he does.   
  
Lois knows what it is, and if she wants us to know, she'll   
  
tell us. I'd be the last man alive to defend a man who was   
  
cheating on my daughter, but I'm as sure as I can be that   
  
it isn't another woman. In the first place, Lois would   
  
never put up with it if it was, and I think you know it."   
  
Ellen stared at him, seeming shocked at his vehemence. He   
  
pressed his advantage. "If you want Lois and her family to   
  
be eager to see you instead of just putting up with you,   
  
drop it. As Marta so eloquently put it, it isn't any of   
  
our business."   
  
"But -- "   
  
"Ellen, do you want to keep Lois as your friend as well as   
  
your daughter? Do you want your grandchildren to like   
  
you?"   
  
"Of course I do! But --"   
  
"Then let her handle her own life and leave her husband   
  
alone. I've kept quiet about this long enough. Clark is   
  
Lois's choice, not yours. From what I've seen, in his eyes   
  
the sun rises and sets with her." Sam met her eyes   
  
steadily, trying to get across to her his utter   
  
seriousness. "Take it from me, she doesn't appreciate your   
  
attempts to meddle. From what the kids said, you're not   
  
operating with all the facts. You already made one mistake   
  
this evening. Don't make it worse."   
  
Ellen seemed to be struck speechless for several seconds.   
  
She opened and closed her mouth several times but no words   
  
came out. Then she seemed to wilt. Her eyes filled with   
  
tears.   
  
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "Have I really been that   
  
horrible?"   
  
Sam put an arm around her. "Ellen, I know you love Lois,   
  
and so does she. So does Clark, which is why I think he   
  
doesn't make a fuss about the subject. But there are   
  
limits to everything. You don't want Lois to start   
  
avoiding you because you can't let something go, do you?   
  
She and Clark are in the middle of a crisis. They don't   
  
need more stress, right now."   
  
Uncharacteristically subdued, Ellen nodded. "You're right.   
  
They don't." She glanced up the stairs. "Do you think I   
  
should apologize to Marta and CJ?"   
  
"I don't think it would hurt. I think it can wait until   
  
morning, though."   
  
She glanced up the stairs and he followed her gaze, but no   
  
one stood there, listening. Sam allowed himself a small   
  
measure of satisfaction. Maybe he had gotten through to   
  
her, although habit would probably bring her back to the   
  
subject eventually. He didn't enjoy Lois's obvious   
  
unhappiness when Ellen brought up the question of Clark's   
  
disappearances. He'd done more damage to his family in his   
  
younger days than he could ever make up for, but at least   
  
he could try to help Lois and Clark out, now.   
  
**********   
  
"Can you hear anything?" Lois asked, for the hundredth   
  
time. She shifted slightly in the bed, careful not to move   
  
the arm where an intravenous cutdown delivered medication   
  
in a steady metered dosage into her veins. "How is it   
  
going?"   
  
Clark squeezed her hand. "Lois, you ought to be able to   
  
tell. Have you had any more contractions in the last   
  
couple of hours?"   
  
"No. But I still want to know what they're saying. Come   
  
on, give!" The forceful sentence was delivered through a   
  
yawn. Even in a personal crisis, drowsy from the   
  
medication she was receiving, the famous Lane curiosity was   
  
in full gear, Clark thought. Or maybe *because* it was a   
  
personal crisis. He lowered his glasses and glanced   
  
through the wall at the monitoring station.   
  
Bernie Klein was just walking in. The scientist bent   
  
slightly to study the monitor. "How is it going?"   
  
The technician glanced sideways. "The contractions seem to   
  
be stopping, sir. The last one was nearly three hours ago,   
  
at twelve-twenty-six, and it wasn't much of one as   
  
contractions go."   
  
"Let me see it."   
  
The woman did something to the controls. Bernie leaned   
  
forward again. "Hmm. Good. If it goes on like this, in   
  
couple more hours, we can reduce the dosage and see what   
  
happens."   
  
Clark pushed his glasses into place. "So far, so good.   
  
They're going to give you a little more time and then lower   
  
the amount of the medicine you're getting."   
  
"Good," Lois said. There was a slight slur to her words   
  
that he had noticed ever since they had started giving her   
  
the drug. "This stuff may be a new wonder drug for   
  
stopping contractions, but it makes me feel weird. Did you   
  
know you look funny, all out of focus?"   
  
"I imagine I would," he agreed, smiling. "Honey, why don't   
  
you try to sleep? I think the situation is under control   
  
for now."   
  
She nodded, letting her eyelids flutter closed. Clark   
  
squeezed her hand slightly. The knot in his gut that had   
  
been sitting there like a lump of lead for the last several   
  
hours had begun to unwind. It might be a bit early to   
  
relax completely, but it was beginning to look as if Bernie   
  
Klein had pulled off another small miracle.   
  
A soft knock on the door alerted him to the presence of   
  
Bernard Klein, himself, who opened the door quietly and   
  
slipped inside. "Hi, Clark."   
  
"Hi, Bernie."   
  
"Is she asleep?" The scientist nodded toward Lois.   
  
Lois opened one eye a crack. "Almost."   
  
"I thought you'd like to know, the medication seems to be   
  
working. We're going to keep the dose at this level for a   
  
couple more hours and then start lowering it slightly. If   
  
we can take you completely off of it, we will. If not,   
  
we'll maintain it at the lowest dose we can for as long as   
  
possible."   
  
"I don't suppose I'll be able to get out of bed, though,"   
  
Lois said, sounding grumpy.   
  
The scientist shook his head. "I'm afraid not. We might   
  
allow short trips to the bathroom, depending on how things   
  
go. It would be better if Clark could carry you there,   
  
though."   
  
Lois harrumphed and fell silent.   
  
Clark turned his head. The radio broadcast, turned on low   
  
at the monitoring station, had been interrupted with a   
  
newsbreak.   
  
Bernie Klein had noticed. "Emergency, Clark?"   
  
He nodded. "There's been an earthquake. A 6.2 quake in   
  
the Los Angeles area."   
  
"Go," Lois said, at once. "I'll be okay, Clark. I'm going   
  
to go to sleep, anyway."   
  
Bernard Klein gave a half-smile. "I'll keep an eye on her,   
  
Clark. Go."   
  
**********   
  
Marta Kent awoke suddenly and completely.   
  
A glance at her bedside alarm clock told her it was close   
  
to three in the morning and the house should be completely   
  
silent, but there was someone moving around out there.   
  
From somewhere downstairs, she heard the scuff of a shoe   
  
and a faint thump as something fell to the rug.   
  
Marta frowned. Quietly, she slipped out of bed, not   
  
bothering with her bedroom slippers and tiptoed to the   
  
door. As she did so, muffled footsteps started up the   
  
stairs. Marta froze by the door, listening. If it was   
  
Grandmother Ellen, she didn't want to speak to her. The   
  
reason for her earlier anger with Ellen returned full   
  
force. How could her grandmother even think that Daddy   
  
would ever cheat on Mom? Marta was a little unclear on the   
  
details involved in one person "cheating" on another, but   
  
she knew that sex was part of it, and that it somehow   
  
involved one or the other parent and another person that   
  
wasn't married to either one of them. Even the idea that   
  
Dad would want to be with somebody besides her mother was   
  
upsetting. Her father wouldn't do such a thing, and it   
  
made Marta furious to think that Grandmother Ellen would   
  
say things like that about him.   
  
The footsteps reached the landing and came toward her door.   
  
Marta tried to breathe quietly, straining her ears and the   
  
beginnings of her super hearing.   
  
"The master bedroom is the one at the end," a male voice   
  
said, in barely more than a whisper. "From what I could   
  
see from the street, this one belongs to the girl."   
  
Burglars? Marta ran a hand over the lock on her door. It   
  
was still locked. She'd fastened it after Grandfather Sam   
  
had finished reading to them last night. Somehow, though,   
  
she had to alert the others in the house.   
  
The doorknob jiggled under her hand. Someone was trying to   
  
open her door.   
  
Marta held her breath.   
  
"Locked," the voice whispered. "Can you get it open?"   
  
"What are you going to do?" another male voice asked.   
  
"Kidnapping is a federal offense!"   
  
"Do you think that matters? I've been in prison for   
  
thirteen years. Lois Lane is going to pay for it."   
  
Again the doorknob jiggled. Marta drew in her breath. If   
  
she screamed, that would probably wake up everyone in the   
  
house.   
  
But the only grown-ups here were Grandfather Sam and   
  
Grandmother Ellen, and Grandfather Sam was nearly seventy   
  
years old. If there was a bad man out there, as there   
  
seemed to be, he might hurt them. Besides, what if he had   
  
a gun?   
  
Quickly and quietly, Marta crossed the room to her window   
  
and pushed it upward. They had practiced fire drills often   
  
enough. She was supposed to open the window and yell for   
  
help.   
  
The street below her room was empty, except for a white van   
  
with some kind of dead bug on the side parked right across   
  
the street.   
  
There were sounds out in the hall, now, and for a moment,   
  
she wondered why nobody else in the house was hearing them.   
  
Then she remembered that what was loud and clear to her   
  
wasn't loud for ordinary people. CJ was the only other   
  
person in the house who might be able to hear the noises,   
  
and his room was farther down the hall. Besides, he was   
  
probably sound asleep.   
  
Marta pushed out on the screen as hard as she could. It was   
  
a cloth screen, not one of the more solid metal ones. It   
  
ripped easily across and she tore it sideways. Below her,   
  
a ledge ran around the building. Marta glanced over her   
  
shoulder at the door. There was a scratching sound and   
  
another slight rattle of the knob. Without hesitation, she   
  
slithered backwards through the window, her bare feet   
  
searching for the ledge.   
  
From her door, she heard a click, just as her toes touched   
  
the ledge. Quickly, she turned, grasping the windowsill   
  
and placed her back to the wall, then moved carefully   
  
sideways, pulling the window almost closed. Behind her,   
  
she heard the door open and footsteps entered her bedroom.   
  
This wasn't a good idea, she thought. If anyone looked   
  
out, they'd see her on the ledge and she'd be stuck, but   
  
there was no going back, now. Hugging the wall, she slid   
  
sideways. The ledge was maybe a foot wide. If she made   
  
herself small and very flat against the wall, she'd be all   
  
right.   
  
Footsteps crossed the rug. Silence for an instant, and   
  
then the first voice spoke again. "She's gone!"   
  
Marta edged to the right, an inch at a time. She needed to   
  
get out of reach of anyone standing at the window. For an   
  
instant, she made the mistake of looking down and wrenched   
  
her eyes up. She was only maybe twenty feet above the   
  
sidewalk, but that was high enough. If she slipped, she   
  
was bound to break something at the very least.   
  
"Wait a minute." The voice in her room spoke suddenly, and   
  
the footsteps approached the window. Marta scooted a little   
  
farther to the right, pressed back against the wall. The   
  
storm drain ran down the wall just a few feet beyond her   
  
grasp.   
  
The window scraped up. Marta slid sideways again. Her   
  
bare foot came down on something sharp and she winced   
  
involuntarily. She definitely wasn't invulnerable, yet.   
  
It didn't hurt much, at least not exactly, but it wasn't   
  
comfortable.   
  
A head was thrust through the window. Marta risked another   
  
step sideways, nearly overbalancing, and grasped the storm   
  
drain with her right hand.   
  
"Well, hello there." The dark-haired man was looking   
  
directly at her, smiling. It might be dark out here, but   
  
the reflection of the streetlights gave him enough light to   
  
see her, even if the moon wasn't up anymore.   
  
Marta gripped the storm drain and glared back at him,   
  
daring him to come after her. *CJ* she thought. *Come on,   
  
wake up! You're Super, too! Can't you hear all this   
  
stuff?*   
  
The dark-haired man reached his arm out the window and   
  
Marta saw the handgun he held.   
  
"Not a sound, sweetheart," he said. "Come on back."   
  
Marta only half heard him. If she came back, he was going   
  
to kidnap her to hurt her mom. Dad and Mom had warned her   
  
about people like this and told her to do everything she   
  
could to keep such people from getting their hands on her.   
  
Mom had told her one time that if a kidnapper tried to make   
  
her get into his car by waving a gun at her, that the   
  
smartest thing she could do was to run and scream her head   
  
off. It was hard to hit a moving target with a handgun,   
  
Mom had said. Her chances were better that way than going   
  
along with a kidnapper, unless there was no other choice.   
  
Well, this wasn't exactly a car, but Marta was smart enough   
  
to realize that the difference didn't matter. She had to   
  
get away and find help before this person, whoever he was,   
  
hurt her family.   
  
Before she could stop to consider the distance to the   
  
sidewalk, she pushed away from the ledge. Grasping the   
  
drainpipe, she fell toward the ground, twenty feet below.   
  
**********   
  
Wyatt Dillon came awake with a start, certain that he had   
  
heard Marta's voice. The room was quiet, except for CJ's   
  
breathing. He was still orienting himself, when his friend   
  
stirred and pushed himself up on an elbow. "Marta?" he   
  
mumbled.   
  
Maybe he hadn't been dreaming after all, Wyatt thought.   
  
Maybe CJ's super hearing had picked up her voice. He got   
  
out of bed. Marta had sounded scared. She'd probably just   
  
had a bad dream, he rationalized, but underneath, he didn't   
  
believe it. Something wasn't right, he thought, although   
  
he couldn't have said what made him think so.   
  
He made his way to the door, stepping over the pile of his   
  
clothing that he'd left on the floor last night. Just   
  
about to open the door, CJ's whisper stopped him.   
  
"Don't go out there, Wyatt! Somebody's in the hall!"   
  
Maybe he and CJ hadn't been the only ones to hear Marta   
  
yell, he thought, reaching for the knob, when CJ's hand   
  
caught his wrist. "Burglars!" he whispered.   
  
"But Marta's in trouble," Wyatt said, before he even   
  
considered why he was so certain of the fact.   
  
"I know," CJ said. "But getting ourselves hurt isn't gonna   
  
help her." He reached past Wyatt, locking the door. "Come   
  
on."   
  
"Where?"   
  
CJ didn't answer. Instead, he crossed to the window and   
  
slid it open. As he did so, the sound of an explosion   
  
nearly made Wyatt jump out of his skin. For an instant, he   
  
thought it was a car backfiring.   
  
"Somebody's shooting!" CJ said. Belatedly, he reached   
  
back, grabbed the jeans that lay across the foot of his bed   
  
and yanked them on over his pajamas.   
  
The doorknob rattled.   
  
"This one's locked, too!" somebody whispered.   
  
"Forget it! I want that girl!" The other voice was   
  
slightly louder than the first one. "Come on!"   
  
Footsteps retreated down the hall. CJ waited several   
  
seconds and unlocked the door. "Wyatt, call my   
  
Grandfather! I'm going to find Marta!"   
  
**********   
  
Grasping the drainpipe, Marta fell toward the ground,   
  
twenty feet below.   
  
The drainpipe bent under her weight and slowed her plummet   
  
toward the street. Halfway down, the mistreated metal   
  
broke and she fell the last few feet to land with a   
  
bruising thump on the pavement. At the same instant from   
  
above, came the report of the pistol. She saw dirt spray up   
  
from the street a good six feet away. With the agility she   
  
had learned in her Tae Kwan Do class, she rolled to her   
  
feet and ran.   
  
Except for the parked vehicles, the street was empty. Not   
  
far away, she heard the yapping of Mr. Parker's beagle and   
  
the howling of the Siberian Husky in the Rowling household   
  
but there was, naturally, no one to be seen. Where the   
  
heck was the cop car that went by the townhouse at night?   
  
Marta ran to the door of the Grandon house and hammered on   
  
the door. "Help! Help me!"   
  
The light came on in the upper window and a sleepy voice   
  
called out, "Who's there?"   
  
"Marta Kent! Help me!"   
  
"Go home, Marta," Mrs. Grandon's voice called, sounding   
  
annoyed. "It's after four!"   
  
"Help!" Marta screamed. "Somebody's trying to kidnap me!"   
  
"Go *home*, Marta," Mrs. Grandon's voice said again. "I'm   
  
going to call your parents!"   
  
No wonder the Grandon kids acted the way they did, Marta   
  
reflected, if Mrs. Grandon didn't pay any more attention to   
  
her own kids than she did to Marta. She glanced over her   
  
shoulder as the front door of her home opened and two men   
  
charged out. She jumped from the steps and ran as hard as   
  
she could down the block, looking for a place to hide.   
  
Behind her, she could hear the motor of the van start up   
  
and the squeal of tires as the vehicle peeled away from the   
  
curb.   
  
But, maybe Mrs. Grandon had a point. Dad was Superman.   
  
Maybe if she yelled for help, he'd hear her. She sucked in   
  
her breath.   
  
"Help, Superman!"   
  
**********   
  
Sam Lane jolted awake at the pounding on the bedroom door.   
  
"Dr. Lane!" Wyatt Dillon's frantic voice came faintly   
  
through the panel. "Dr. Lane, please wake up!"   
  
The boy sounded thoroughly scared. Sam threw back the   
  
covers and dropped his feet to the floor. "Just a minute!"   
  
Ellen stirred, pushing herself to a sitting position.   
  
"What's the matter?"   
  
"I don't know." Sam grabbed his robe and hurried to the   
  
door, tying the sash. He flung it open, to see Wyatt, his   
  
eyes the size of saucers, waiting for him. "What's wrong,   
  
Wyatt?"   
  
"Marta's in trouble!" Wyatt looked in the direction of the   
  
stairs, pointing. "There were burglars!" The door to   
  
Marta's room was open, Sam saw, and her room light was   
  
blazing. As he followed Wyatt's glance, CJ emerged from   
  
his sister's room.   
  
"She's gone!" he announced. "Her window's open and the   
  
screen's ripped. The drainpipe is all bent, too."   
  
"What's going on?" Ellen asked. She craned her head to see   
  
over Sam's shoulder.   
  
"We heard Marta yell," CJ said. "Right after that, I heard   
  
somebody in the hall -- men's voices -- and then, somebody   
  
was shooting, outside!"   
  
Sam glanced quickly at his wife. "Ellen, call the police,"   
  
he directed. "I'm going to find Marta."   
  
Ellen wasn't Lois Lane's mother for nothing. Instead of   
  
panicking, as some might have done, she nodded briskly and   
  
went to the phone. Sam pushed his feet into his shoes   
  
without bothering to tie the laces and hurried to the   
  
stairs. Wyatt and CJ had vanished and he heard the front   
  
door slam. "CJ!" he shouted.   
  
Behind him, the door to Jonny and Jimmy's room opened and   
  
Jonny stuck his head out . "What's going on?"   
  
Sam felt the urge to tear at his hair -- if he'd had any   
  
left. "Kids, go back into your room and get in bed."   
  
"But what's *happening*?" Jimmy asked, trying to see past   
  
his older brother.   
  
"We had a burglar. Go back to bed, now. Everything's all   
  
right."   
  
"A *burglar*! Did you call the cops?"   
  
"Yes, Jonny, your grandmother called the police."   
  
"Did he steal anything?" Jonny inquired.   
  
"We don't know, yet. CJ and Wyatt scared him off."   
  
Jimmy crowded past his brother. "Did he steal our TV?"   
  
"I don't know, Jimmy. Go back to bed!"   
  
Ellen stepped into the hall. She fixed the two youngsters   
  
with an intimidating glare. "If you two don't get back in   
  
your beds *right now*, I'm going to call your mother!" she   
  
said. "Your grandfather and I are going to check and be   
  
sure everything's all right!" She planted her fists on her   
  
hips and eyed the pair of them sternly. "Do I have to tell   
  
your mom you don't listen to your Grandfather Sam?"   
  
Jonny shook his head vigorously and retreated into his   
  
room. Jimmy pouted. "I want to see if he took our TV!"   
  
"If he took the TV, I'll let you know!" Ellen countered.   
  
"Now, march!"   
  
Reluctantly, Jimmy followed his older brother. As soon as   
  
the door closed behind them, Ellen turned to Sam. "I got   
  
the police. They're sending a squad car. Where are the   
  
boys and Marta?"   
  
"I don't know. CJ and Wyatt went downstairs and I heard   
  
the door slam. I think they may have gone after Marta."   
  
"What's Marta doing out there?"   
  
"I don't know, but CJ said she wasn't in her room and the   
  
window was open." Sam yanked on the tie of his robe to   
  
tighten it. "I'm going after them. Can you handle things   
  
here?"   
  
"Sam, be careful. Something's very strange, here."   
  
"When *aren't* things strange when it comes to Lois and   
  
Clark?" Sam asked. He bent to tie his shoes. "Let me get   
  
CJ's baseball bat," he said. "If I run into the burglar,   
  
at least I won't be unarmed."   
  
**********   
  
As CJ and Wyatt opened the door, Wyatt heard the roar of an   
  
engine and a white van pulled away from the curb. Far up   
  
the street, he could see a small, dark-haired figure   
  
running down the sidewalk, as she passed under the pool of   
  
light cast by a street lamp.   
  
He let the door slam shut. "There she is!"   
  
"Where?" CJ demanded.   
  
"There!" Wyatt bolted down the steps, nearly stumbling,   
  
and took off after her. He had no doubt at all in his mind   
  
that the running figure he had seen was Marta. Ahead of   
  
him, the van accelerated after her and, somewhat belatedly,   
  
Wyatt saw the connection. The van was the only moving   
  
vehicle on the whole block. What if the burglars had come   
  
in it? That guy in the hall, whoever he was, had said he   
  
wanted "that girl". These guys were trying to kidnap   
  
Marta!   
  
CJ passed him as if he was standing still, but Wyatt kept   
  
running. His friend might be a super boy, but even CJ   
  
couldn't handle a couple of grown men all by himself! He'd   
  
heard Sam Lane tell Ellen to call the police, so all he and   
  
CJ had to do was stall things long enough for the cops to   
  
get here.   
  
The big van swerved into the alley halfway down the block,   
  
and a second later Wyatt saw CJ turn down it as well.   
  
Marta must have gone that way, he thought. It was almost   
  
as if he could hear her running footsteps ahead of him.   
  
Ahead, a pair of red taillights showed him that the vehicle   
  
was moving slowly, probably because of the narrowness of   
  
the alley. On both sides, the walls of the old townhouses   
  
crowded in, leaving barely enough room on either side for   
  
the van to pass. Once, he distinctly heard the scrape of   
  
metal on stone when the driver must have misjudged his   
  
margin.   
  
Suddenly, the motor cut off and a moment later, he heard a   
  
mumble of voices. There were two men ahead of him, he   
  
thought. He couldn't hear CJ's footsteps, or Marta's, now,   
  
but he knew she was up there. A voice spoke a cussword,   
  
and silhouetted against the dim, red light given out by the   
  
taillights, he could see CJ moving slowly forward as silent   
  
as a ghost. The body of the van blocked most of the   
  
illumination from the headlights, but he could see enough   
  
to realize that the men were having trouble opening the   
  
doors wide enough to squeeze out.   
  
"Don't move, sweetie." He heard the voice that had been   
  
swearing a moment ago. "I'd hate to have to shoot you."   
  
"Get away from me!" Marta sounded angry as much as scared.   
  
"No, I don't think so." The voice seemed amused. "You   
  
look just like your mother, did you know that?"   
  
Marta used a four-letter word and Wyatt found himself   
  
grinning slightly.   
  
"Your mother put me in prison," the voice continued. "I've   
  
been there for thirteen years. Now it's my turn. This is   
  
going to be the best prank of my career -- to make Lois   
  
Lane pay for what she put me through."   
  
"If my mom put you in jail, then you deserved it," Marta's   
  
voice said. "And she'll put you back."   
  
CJ was pressed up against the van as Wyatt arrived. He   
  
patted the white, metal door and then put a finger to his   
  
lips. Wyatt nodded. Slowly, CJ peeked around the side of   
  
the van, and Wyatt stood on tiptoe, trying to see through   
  
the rear window. His eyes barely came to the bottom of the   
  
glass and a pair of curtains was pulled almost closed, but   
  
perhaps half an inch of space remained between them.   
  
Peeking through the gap with one eye, Wyatt could see a   
  
slender, dark-haired man with a streak of silver over each   
  
ear standing perhaps five feet from Marta, and in his hand   
  
was a pistol. A wooden fence blocked the alley, and   
  
against it several trash cans and half a dozen garbage bags   
  
were stacked. To her right, a pudgy, balding man fidgeted   
  
uneasily.   
  
The dark-haired man waved the weapon. "Come on, sweetie.   
  
Get in the van."   
  
Marta shook her head. "Come and get me."   
  
Wyatt bit his lip. He and CJ needed to do something! They   
  
couldn't let this guy grab Marta! But, he had a gun!   
  
Wyatt wasn't sure what he was going to do but he knew he   
  
wasn't going to let that guy take Marta without a fight.   
  
He almost jumped when CJ touched his arm. His friend   
  
beckoned silently and Wyatt saw that he was holding a piece   
  
of broken concrete about half the size of a baseball in one   
  
hand. He put his lips barely an inch from Wyatt's ear.   
  
"Follow me. Get in the van and take the keys. They're   
  
still in the ignition. Then he won't be able to drive   
  
away."   
  
The impulse to ask how CJ knew was never acted on. He   
  
must, Wyatt realized, have looked with his x-ray vision.   
  
He found himself nodding, and an instant later he slipped   
  
around the edge of the van after CJ.   
  
**********   
  
Sam Lane shoved open the door of the Kent townhouse. Far   
  
down the street, he saw a single, small figure running   
  
barefooted through the puddle of light cast by a   
  
streetlight. Judging by the build, that might be Wyatt, and   
  
he was obviously in a big hurry. Sam took a tighter grip   
  
on the baseball bat and descended the steps to the street.   
  
Trying to hurry, he strode after the running figure.   
  
**********   
  
CJ crept forward, Wyatt on his heels. Their smaller bodies   
  
allowed them to slide more easily between the van and the   
  
wall of the neighboring building than the adults. CJ   
  
stopped at the door of the van and Wyatt saw that it hadn't   
  
latched when it had swung closed. CJ eased it open and as   
  
soon as it was wide enough, Wyatt squeezed through the   
  
opening and scrambled into the cab.   
  
The key was in the ignition. Wyatt pulled it out and   
  
stuffed it into his pocket. Glancing at the passenger   
  
door, he saw that it was unlocked and quickly shoved the   
  
button down. Quietly, he pushed down the locking button of   
  
the driver's door as well and slid out of the cab.   
  
CJ had slipped past the door and was crouched down by the   
  
front wheel. Marta had backed up until the big garbage   
  
cans were just behind her, and for an instant, in spite of   
  
the headlights of the van, she looked directly at Wyatt,   
  
then her eyes moved away to focus on her pursuers. The two   
  
men who faced her seemed somehow baffled. The chubby man   
  
fidgeted, looking as if he wished he were anywhere but   
  
here. The man with the gun had his back directly to Wyatt   
  
and CJ, and it was a little harder to tell what he was   
  
thinking.   
  
He moved a couple of steps closer to Marta. "Come on,   
  
kid." The humor in his voice seemed more forced. "You   
  
don't want me to have to shoot you."   
  
"I'm not coming." Marta said. In the headlights, she   
  
looked scared but determined. "You're going to kill me,   
  
anyway."   
  
"You're as irritating as your mother." The man took a step   
  
forward. "Come on."   
  
Wyatt eased the door of the van very gently shut and   
  
pressed in the latch button until he felt it catch. Both   
  
doors of the big vehicle were now locked, and he held the   
  
key.   
  
The chubby man had begun to back slowly toward the van. It   
  
was at that instant that CJ stood up and hurled his chunk   
  
of concrete straight at the back of the man in front of   
  
him.   
  
There was a reason, Wyatt knew, that his friend was one of   
  
the best starting pitchers on the Metropolis Eagles, the   
  
local Little League team. Very few batters from opposing   
  
teams liked to go up against CJ Kent, even before his super   
  
powers had started to come in and Wyatt knew why, as he was   
  
often the catcher. On more than one occasion, he had   
  
walked away from a game with his glove-hand stinging from   
  
multiple fast balls thrown by CJ.   
  
The missile struck squarely between the man's shoulder   
  
blades with a thunk that made Wyatt wince in involuntary   
  
sympathy. At the same instant, Marta dropped to the   
  
ground. Placing her hands on the dirty asphalt, she swept   
  
out with one foot in a fluid motion that took the would-be   
  
kidnapper's feet neatly out from under him. He hit the   
  
ground with a bruising thump and a solid "crack" as the   
  
back of his head struck the pavement. The handgun went   
  
flying. It landed almost at CJ's feet and, with the   
  
presence of mind that Wyatt most admired in his friend, CJ   
  
instantly kicked it under the van.   
  
The chubby, balding man had squeezed to the passenger door   
  
of the van and was now tugging uselessly at the handle.   
  
After several fruitless seconds, he gave up and inched his   
  
way toward the rear of the van.   
  
But CJ was moving forward to the spot where the dark-haired   
  
man was sprawled awkwardly on the pavement. Wyatt   
  
followed.   
  
"Come on, Marta," CJ said, never taking his eyes from the   
  
unconscious figure. "Let's get out of here."   
  
Marta nodded and circled the man. "Won't he get away when   
  
he wakes up?"   
  
"I locked the doors of the van," Wyatt said. "He can't   
  
drive anywhere. Let's hurry. Maybe we can find a cop."   
  
"We better watch out for the other guy," CJ said. "He took   
  
off."   
  
"He didn't get far," a familiar voice said.   
  
"Grandfather Sam?" Marta pushed through the gap between   
  
the van and the building and Wyatt followed.   
  
Stretched on the asphalt, the second man lay perfectly   
  
still, and Sam Lane stood over him, holding CJ's baseball   
  
bat at the ready. CJ's grandfather glanced quickly over   
  
them and his gaze settled on Marta.   
  
"Are you all right, honey?" he asked.   
  
"I'm fine," Marta assured him.   
  
"Marta took out that guy," Wyatt said. "She kicked his   
  
feet right out from under him."   
  
"I saw most of it." Sam looked at his prisoner. "Get up,   
  
buddy. I want you to drag that guy out here. And don't   
  
try anything." He stood back as the man got slowly to his   
  
feet. "Marta, you stay here with me. CJ, you and Wyatt go   
  
call the police. There's a pay phone out on the street   
  
about two doors down. Stick together and don't take too   
  
long."   
  
"Yes, sir." CJ's teeth flashed in the dimness, glowing red   
  
in the taillights of the van. "Come on, Wyatt."   
  
**********   
  
Lois woke from an uncomfortable sleep to find a sleepy-  
  
looking nurse adjusting the setting on the tiny device that   
  
monitored the drip rate of her IV. The woman glanced at   
  
her when she stirred and gave her a smile that turned into   
  
a small yawn.   
  
"Excuse me," she said.   
  
"That's okay. What time is it?"   
  
The nurse checked her watch. "Nearly five-thirty. Dr.   
  
Klein wants to reduce your dosage and monitor you for   
  
contractions for a while."   
  
"Okay." Lois swallowed, trying to tell herself that Bernie   
  
knew what he was doing. Still, it would be nice if Clark   
  
could come back, soon. She knew that Superman was needed   
  
in California, but she needed him, too. Lois Lane was too   
  
tough to admit that something scared her, but this   
  
situation was one she'd never been in before, and she was   
  
afraid.   
  
The nurse apparently realized it. She rested a hand gently   
  
on Lois's shoulder. "Don't worry, Mrs. Kent. At the first   
  
sign of any trouble, we'll increase the dosage, but this   
  
drug has a very good success rate. It's new, as Dr. Klein   
  
may have told you."   
  
"Yes, he did."   
  
"He may not have told you that he worked with two of the   
  
best obstetrical researchers at this hospital, to develop   
  
it. The man is amazing."   
  
"I know," Lois said. "He's a friend of our family. It's   
  
reassuring to know he had a hand in it."   
  
"I thought it might be." The nurse glanced around at a   
  
knock on the door. "Oh, hello, Mr. Kent."   
  
"How are things going?" Clark asked, stepping into the   
  
room.   
  
"So far so good," Lois said. "I'm glad you're back."   
  
"So am I." Clark stood aside to let the nurse exit and   
  
then came to bend over the bed and drop a kiss on Lois's   
  
lips. "I'm sorry it took so long, honey."   
  
"How was California?" Lois asked. It was amazing how much   
  
better she felt with him in the room.   
  
Clark grimaced. "Not too good. I'm glad it wasn't any   
  
worse. The quake was north of Los Angeles, but the power   
  
was out in most of the city and a private hospital   
  
collapsed."   
  
"Oh, no!"   
  
"Yeah." He pulled the chair he had been using earlier in   
  
the evening next to her bed and sank into it. "The second   
  
story telescoped right down into the first. Fortunately, a   
  
portion of it was under reconstruction, so that part of it   
  
was empty, but two nurse's aides and a janitor were killed,   
  
and a lot of people were hurt. At least, Superman was able   
  
to help with the evacuation."   
  
On cue, his cellular phone beeped softly. Clark slipped   
  
his hand into the inside pocket and removed the device.   
  
"Who would be calling us, now?"   
  
"I hope there's nothing wrong at home," Lois said.   
  
Clark flipped the phone open. "Kent." A pause. "Bill?"   
  
"Henderson?" Lois asked. "What's he doing, calling at this   
  
hour?"   
  
Clark frowned. "Is something wrong, Bill?" Silence again.   
  
Lois saw her husband's eyebrows go up. "Is everyone all   
  
right?"   
  
"What's the matter?" Lois whispered.   
  
Clark shook his head, still listening as the city's deputy   
  
mayor spoke. "You're kidding! Do you need me, right now?"   
  
Silence. Lois controlled her impatience until he spoke   
  
again. "Okay, thanks for calling to let me know, Bill.   
  
Yes, Lois is doing fine, for now. I'll talk to you later.   
  
Bye."   
  
"So, what happened?" Lois demanded, as he slowly tucked the   
  
phone away.   
  
"Well, he didn't give me all the details, but apparently   
  
CJ, Marta, Wyatt and Sam caught Kyle Griffin and his   
  
friend, Victor."   
  
Lois nearly sat up straight. "*What*?"   
  
Clark had a faint grin on his lips. "Do you ever get the   
  
feeling our kids are following in our footsteps?"   
  
"Maybe you'd better call the house!"   
  
"Bill was going to give them a ride home from the police   
  
station. He said Marta kicked Griffin's feet out from   
  
under him, and he's in the hospital with a hairline skull   
  
fracture. Evidently, he cracked his head pretty hard on the   
  
street. He's going to recover, but maybe from now on he   
  
should keep in mind that our little girl doesn't kid   
  
around."   
  
"I'm sure that she had a good reason," Lois said.   
  
"Everybody's all right, though?"   
  
"So he said."   
  
"Well, I want to know what happened!"   
  
"So do I. I'll give them time enough to get home and then   
  
give them a call."   
  
**********   
  
In spite of her best efforts, Ellen couldn't get to sleep.   
  
Sam's call from the police station concerning the capture   
  
of Kyle Griffin had relieved her immediate worry but   
  
something that she couldn't put her finger on wouldn't let   
  
her relax completely.   
  
Part of it was the attempted kidnap of Marta right out of   
  
her own house. That sort of thing had happened now and   
  
then and now it had nearly happened to her own   
  
granddaughter. It was only luck that had wakened Wyatt and   
  
CJ in time for them to realize what was going on. Marta   
  
had apparently managed to defend herself ably enough, and   
  
it sounded to Ellen as if the man had gotten exactly what   
  
he deserved. She hoped the headache he was bound to have   
  
after he woke up would teach him a lesson, but the whole   
  
thing had left her understandably shaken.   
  
How had the man gotten into the house? The question had   
  
been revolving in her brain for the last hour.   
  
Ellen would have bet her life that she and Sam had fastened   
  
every lock on the doors and windows and that the house had   
  
been completely secure when they had gone to bed. When Sam   
  
had gone after Marta, Ellen had called the police again and   
  
then made a circuit of the entire house, making sure that   
  
everything was locked up tight. She hadn't been able to   
  
find anything unlocked, anywhere.   
  
The police hadn't arrived, of course. CJ's call to the   
  
police station had caused the squad car to be diverted to   
  
pick up Kyle Griffin and his companion, thus resolving the   
  
situation, but the question still nagged at her.  
  
Had he actually come in through the front door? But the   
  
locks had been fastened, including the chain lock and the   
  
sliding bolt, as well as the deadbolt! And none of them   
  
were broken, so how could that have been the entrance?   
  
Ellen couldn't figure it out, but she would be extremely   
  
glad when Sam got back. Unable to sleep, she slid out of   
  
bed a second time and reached for her robe. Checking the   
  
locks one more time was probably futile, but it couldn't   
  
hurt and maybe she would find something she had missed.   
  
"Grandmother Ellen?" The small figure of Jimmy Kent   
  
appeared in the doorway, his older brother behind him.   
  
"What's the matter, Jimmy?"   
  
"I'm scared."   
  
"Me, too," Jonny admitted. "I hear funny noises   
  
downstairs."   
  
Ellen didn't hear anything, but the children's ears were   
  
admittedly better than hers. "What do you hear, Jonny?"   
  
"Just funny noises, like somebody's moving around down   
  
there."   
  
"Maybe the burglar came back," Jimmy said. "Can we come in   
  
there with you?"   
  
Ellen hesitated. "All right, you can come in and we'll   
  
wait until your Grandfather Sam and the others get here. I   
  
don't think the burglars came back, though. Your   
  
Grandfather Sam said the police arrested them."   
  
"Maybe there's another one," Jimmy said. He tugged on his   
  
brother's hand and entered the bedroom. Jonny closed the   
  
door and punched in the locking button.   
  
Ellen glanced doubtfully at the button. That kind of lock   
  
could be easily unlocked from the outside. Maybe she was   
  
being silly, but the fear of the children was beginning to   
  
affect her as well.   
  
"Maybe there's somebody hiding in the basement," Jimmy   
  
said.   
  
The basement! Why hadn't she checked the basement? There   
  
were glass windows in the basement, which opened at ground   
  
level! If no other lock had been broken in the main house,   
  
how about the basement? She hadn't even thought to check   
  
them!   
  
Come on, Ellen! she chided herself. You're letting your   
  
imagination run away with you! Just go downstairs and lock   
  
the basement door and then, if anyone tries to get in,   
  
he'll be stuck. Besides, who would be down there, now?   
  
The intruders are in police custody and everything's all   
  
right. But, somehow she couldn't make herself open the   
  
door. After a second's thought, she walked across the   
  
room, picked up the small, wooden chair that sat under the   
  
window, and placed it against the door with the back jammed   
  
under the doorknob.   
  
"Grandfather Sam and the others will be here, soon," she   
  
said. "We'll just wait here until they arrive, okay?"   
  
The boys nodded solemnly. Then, Jimmy sniffed.   
  
"Grandmother," he said. "Do you smell smoke?"   
  
Startled, Ellen inhaled, trying to detect what the child   
  
already had. Indeed, there was a slight smell of smoke in   
  
the air. Jimmy must have an acute sense of smell to detect   
  
it, however. The smoke detector hadn't gone off and she   
  
knew for a fact that the battery was new. She'd been there   
  
when Jimmy had climbed up on a stepstool under the watchful   
  
eye of his father, to replace it and then test it. He'd   
  
seemed to get a perverse pleasure out of pushing the test   
  
button repeatedly until Clark had firmly lifted him down,   
  
to everyone's relief.   
  
"I have to go find out what's smoking," she said. She   
  
removed the chair. They might be afraid of possible   
  
intruders, but a fire was more real and immediate. "Come   
  
with me, but stay on the stairs, okay?"   
  
Solemnly, the two little boys nodded. Ellen opened the   
  
door and started down the hall.   
  
The smell of smoke was slightly stronger in the hall and it   
  
was as certainly coming from below. At the top of the   
  
stairs, she flipped on the lights and began to descend,   
  
with the boys on her heels. Reaching the halfway landing,   
  
she turned to Jonny and Jimmy. "Stay here."   
  
The boys nodded, and she was conscious of them leaning over   
  
the bannister to watch as she descended the remaining steps   
  
and flipped on the lights at the bottom.   
  
The smell was coming from the kitchen. Ellen paused and   
  
after a moment's indecision, she crossed the living room to   
  
the fireplace and appropriated the poker. The fact that   
  
the boys had heard sounds down here was foremost in her   
  
mind. If there was an intruder, she didn't intend to go in   
  
there unarmed.   
  
As she headed for the kitchen, the smoke detector went off.   
  
At the door, Ellen hesitated and then carefully tested its   
  
surface. It was cool, so she pushed it cautiously open.   
  
A haze of smoke greeted her, but at first, she couldn't see   
  
any source. Then, she saw that the smoke was thicker by   
  
the door to the basement. It was leaking from beneath the   
  
basement door and as she realized this, the door burst   
  
open, accompanied by a belch of smoke. The figure of a man   
  
staggered out, coughing, and lurched toward her. Ellen   
  
screamed.   
  
**********   
  
Bill Henderson pulled his car up in front of the Kent   
  
residence. The living room windows were ablaze with   
  
lights, which, he supposed, wasn't surprising, considering   
  
the events of the night. He cut the engine. "Okay, kids,   
  
we're here."   
  
Sam Lane opened the passenger door and thrust out his hand.   
  
"Thanks, Mr. Henderson. It was good of you to give us a   
  
ride home."   
  
"Not a problem," Henderson said. "It was a pleasure to   
  
meet you. Your daughter has made my life interesting for   
  
years, to say the least." He grinned. "She and Clark are   
  
good friends. I owe them a lot -- but don't tell Lois so.   
  
She'd think I was going soft." He glanced over his   
  
shoulder at the three children. "As for you three, I've   
  
said it to CJ before. Try not to do something like this   
  
again until you're older, okay? I'm getting too old for   
  
this kind of thing. You did a good job, though. Griffin's   
  
never going to live it down."   
  
"He was trying to get even with Mom," CJ said. "I heard   
  
him say she put him in jail the first time."   
  
"She did," Henderson said. "And the second and third   
  
times. Let's hope this is the last time."   
  
CJ turned his head abruptly. "The smoke detector just went   
  
off in the house!"   
  
Henderson didn't hear it, but it made sense that CJ would.   
  
Exactly why the adopted son of the Kent family appeared to   
  
be developing powers like those of his father was something   
  
he'd never asked Clark, but he thought he could make a   
  
fairly accurate guess. He thrust open his door and jumped   
  
out. "Come on!"   
  
Sam Lane followed, accompanied by all three of the   
  
children. As they mounted the steps to the townhouse,   
  
Marta and CJ both jumped. "Grandmother Ellen is   
  
screaming!" Marta said.   
  
The front door was locked and there wasn't a key among   
  
them. Henderson pounded on the door. "Can anybody hear   
  
me?"   
  
No answer. He was about to thrust his shoulder against the   
  
door when Marta said, "I hear Jimmy! He's calling   
  
Grandmother Ellen!"   
  
"Jimmy, open the door!" CJ's raised voice sounded like a   
  
treble version of Clark's, Henderson thought, irrelevantly.   
  
"Let us in!"   
  
Several seconds passed and Henderson had almost decided   
  
that the little boy hadn't heard, when suddenly the lock   
  
turned and the door was pulled inward.   
  
Jonny and Jimmy, still in their pajamas, stood there, and   
  
Henderson could smell smoke and see a greyish haze in the   
  
air. He turned to Sam. "Keep the kids out here. I'm   
  
going to see ..."   
  
CJ went past him, too fast for Henderson to grab him.   
  
"This way!" he called back . "Grandmother's in the   
  
kitchen!"   
  
"CJ!" Sam shouted, but if the boy heard him, he paid no   
  
attention. Henderson cussed softly, but wasted no more   
  
time. He clapped his handkerchief over his mouth and   
  
followed.   
  
As they approached, the door of the kitchen burst open and   
  
an older woman who must be Ellen Lane, emerged. Her eyes   
  
were wide with fright and in one hand, she clutched a   
  
poker.   
  
"What's on fire?" Henderson demanded.   
  
"I think I killed him!" Ellen gasped.   
  
"Killed who?" CJ asked.   
  
"A man!" She seemed to become aware of Henderson at the   
  
same moment and lifted the poker, threateningly.   
  
"No, Grandmother!" CJ caught the object in one hand. "This   
  
is Mr. Henderson!"   
  
Ellen Lane staggered and seemed almost to collapse.   
  
Henderson grabbed her. "Who did you kill?"   
  
"There was a man! He came out of the basement. There's a   
  
fire down there!"   
  
Henderson grasped CJ by the arm before he could charge into   
  
the kitchen. "CJ, get your grandmother out of here. I'll   
  
see what happened. And you'd better call the Fire   
  
Department."   
  
CJ nodded and took his grandmother's arm. "Come on,   
  
Grandmother," he said, quickly. "Let's get outside."   
  
Henderson cautiously pushed open the door to the kitchen.   
  
The room was full of smoke, and more was pouring from the   
  
open basement door. On the floor, a man lay sprawled on   
  
his face, and Henderson knelt quickly by his side.   
  
It was instantly evident that Ellen Lane hadn't killed him.   
  
Henderson could see him breathing, and when he rolled the   
  
intruder over, he could see a large, swollen lump above one   
  
eye. In the hazy conditions it was a little hard to tell,   
  
but Henderson guessed him to be somewhere in his mid to   
  
late seventies, and something about the wrinkled face   
  
seemed familiar. Still, these things could be sorted out   
  
later. With one hand, Henderson shoved the basement door   
  
shut and turned his attention to hauling the semiconscious   
  
man to his feet.   
  
The fellow was coming to and he groaned and began to cough   
  
as Henderson pulled him upright.   
  
"Come on, buddy," Henderson told him. "Unless you want to   
  
suffocate in here."   
  
A sudden "whoosh" filled the room and Superman was standing   
  
there in all his colorful glory. "Can you manage all   
  
right, Bill?" he inquired, quickly.   
  
"No problem," Henderson grunted. "You'd better put out the   
  
fire before it does any more damage." He turned toward the   
  
exit with his staggering burden, aware that behind him,   
  
Superman had disappeared into the basement of his home.   
  
**********   
  
"So, Superman put out the fire," Clark told Lois. "There's   
  
some minor damage, but fortunately, we're covered by   
  
insurance. But the cap to the whole thing was when   
  
Henderson recognized the guy your mom beaned with the poker   
  
as Griffin's father!"   
  
"What?" Lois said. "I thought he was serving a forty-year   
  
term, just like Victor!"   
  
"Apparently, they let him out because of his advanced age   
  
and health problems," Clark said. "I don't know what   
  
they're going to do with him now, but I'd say he definitely   
  
violated his parole. They're holding him on charges of   
  
breaking and entering, as well as suspicion of arson. It   
  
solved the mystery of how Griffin and Victor got in, too.   
  
The basement window was broken." He shook his head,   
  
grinning slightly. "I'd say that by now, Griffin and   
  
company should have learned their lesson not to mess with   
  
Lois Lane -- or her relatives!"   
  
"He won't," Lois said. "If he didn't figure it out in   
  
thirteen years, he isn't going to."   
  
"Probably not," Clark agreed. "However, CJ thinks Wyatt   
  
did figure out something, so I think we're going to have to   
  
talk to him. Marta heard Ellen scream when nobody else but   
  
CJ heard. Wyatt isn't stupid, and he's been acting a   
  
little 'funny', according to CJ, ever since."   
  
Lois made a face. "Oh well, I figured we wouldn't be able   
  
to fool him for long. At least, he's showed he's   
  
trustworthy about CJ."   
  
Clark nodded. "That's what I thought."   
  
There was a knock on the door of the hospital room and   
  
Clark glanced around. Bernie Klein stood in the entrance.   
  
"May I come in?"   
  
"Sure." Clark said.   
  
The doctor entered the room, glancing back and forth   
  
between Lois and Clark. "Am I interrupting?"   
  
"No," Clark said. "We were just discussing last night's   
  
... events."   
  
"I saw some of it," Klein said. "It's on the front page of   
  
the Planet. And the Prankster is in the prison ward up on   
  
the eighth floor. I thought you might like to know that   
  
after I read the story, I took advantage of my position to   
  
talk with his doctor. He's awake and furious, vowing   
  
revenge."   
  
Lois nodded at Clark. "What did I tell you? He didn't   
  
learn a thing."   
  
"I'm not worried," Clark said. "By the time he gets out   
  
again, if ever, Marta won't be vulnerable, anymore."   
  
"That's what I figured," Bernie said. "If you ask me, the   
  
man seems to be seriously unbalanced."   
  
"Unfortunately," William Henderson's voice said from the   
  
doorway, "not in a way the law recognizes. Being a   
  
sociopath isn't considered insanity. He's being   
  
transferred back to the prison ward at Stryker's Island   
  
today. He'll be charged with various crimes, which will   
  
add about a thousand years to his life sentence, not that   
  
it matters. Hopefully, they'll be a little more careful   
  
with him, the next time."   
  
"Hopefully," Lois said. "Come in, Bill."   
  
Henderson entered the room. Looking slightly embarrassed,   
  
he removed a hand from behind his back to reveal a small   
  
vase of flowers. "Um -- this is from me and the guys at   
  
the office."   
  
"Thanks, Bill." Lois took the vase and sniffed the   
  
flowers. "They're beautiful. If you don't watch out,   
  
you're going to blow your hard-bitten image."   
  
Henderson chuckled. "I guess I can afford to. Call it   
  
practice, with the campaign for mayor getting in gear."   
  
"Well, you've got my vote," Lois said. "Thanks for the   
  
help, last night."   
  
"No problem. Your parents and kids did most of the work."   
  
He turned to Dr. Klein. "How's she doing, Doc?"   
  
"Pretty well. I was going to tell you, Lois, that we're   
  
going to keep you here and monitor you until tomorrow   
  
morning and then, if everything seems okay, we're going to   
  
send you home on bed rest until the babies are born."   
  
"Oh brother," Lois said. "This is going to be an exciting   
  
couple of months."   
  
"I'll rig up a television in the bedroom," Clark said.   
  
"And I can bring you downstairs every morning to the couch.   
  
And there's always the computer."   
  
Lois made a face. "Sounds like fun."   
  
"We'll make some arrangements for someone to help you when   
  
I'm not there, too," Clark added. "It's only a couple of   
  
months. You should take the opportunity to rest. After   
  
those little characters are born, we're both going to be   
  
busier than ever."   
  
"Tell me about it," Lois said. "Okay, Bernie, I promise   
  
I'll behave."   
  
**********   
  
Epilogue   
  
"Wyatt?" CJ's voice called from the bottom of the attic   
  
stairs. At the sound of his best friend's voice, Wyatt   
  
Dillon looked around from the television screen, where   
  
Marta was demolishing the castle walls of the evil   
  
overlord.   
  
"Better go," Marta said, without looking around. "I think   
  
Dad wants to talk to you."   
  
He got to his feet. The realization last night, that Marta   
  
was one of the super children, about whose existence he had   
  
learned only a few months ago, was still something he   
  
hadn't quite managed to work out. He'd thought that she   
  
was Mr. and Mrs. Kent's real daughter. She *had* to be   
  
their daughter. There was no way she could be one of the   
  
kids left behind by the New Kryptonians. There was only   
  
one way that could be so, and it was a little embarrassing   
  
to realize after all this time that Mr. Kent had to be a   
  
Kryptonian -- the only Kryptonian left on Earth. He   
  
understood why they hadn't told him. If anyone found out   
  
that Mr. Kent was Superman, his whole family would be in   
  
danger, and the more people who knew, the more likely it   
  
was that somebody would slip. Still, it left him feeling a   
  
little confused.   
  
Marta shut off the game abruptly and got to her feet.   
  
"Wyatt --"   
  
He turned around. "Yeah?"   
  
"I only found out last week."   
  
"Oh." That made him feel a little better.   
  
"Thanks for helping me, last night."   
  
He felt his face turning warm. "Um ... you're welcome," he   
  
mumbled.   
  
Marta grinned. "Come on. We're keeping Dad waiting."   
  
CJ was standing in the hall. "Dad would like to talk to   
  
you," he said.   
  
"Yeah, Marta said he did."   
  
"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you," CJ said. "I had a right   
  
to tell you about me, but I couldn't tell you about Dad."   
  
Suddenly, Wyatt began to laugh. "How come everybody knows   
  
what I figured out?" he asked.   
  
"It was pretty obvious, the way you were looking at   
  
Superman last night," Marta said, prosaically. "I already   
  
told him we could trust you."   
  
"Oh," Wyatt said.   
  
"Will you three get down here?" Clark's voice said from the   
  
foot of the stairs. "Sam and Ellen will be back with Jonny   
  
and Jimmy in half an hour. I'd like to finish this talk   
  
before then."   
  
Wyatt followed Marta and CJ as they clattered down the   
  
stairs. Clark was standing in the middle of the living   
  
room, and as the trio arrived, he waved them to the sofa.   
  
"Okay," he said. "Let's start with the essentials."   
  
Before Wyatt's eyes, he began to spin.   
  
The End 


End file.
